


A Reimagining

by swilli47



Category: Bridget Jones (Movies), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types, Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding, Bridget Jones’s baby
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:02:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26640010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swilli47/pseuds/swilli47
Summary: Bridget and Mark attend Jude and Giles’ baby christening as godparents.  Only Mark is still married with no plans to divorce Camilla.
Relationships: Mark Darcy/Bridget Jones
Comments: 73
Kudos: 48





	1. Godparents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter sets the scene for what’s to come.

Standing in the beautiful churchyard, overlooking the tangled and varied array of lichen-encrusted headstones, Bridget and Mark were at the end of the photographer’s camera session with them both as godparents, along with the baby.The photos with Mark, her ex-fiancé and now married to someone else, had been incredibly difficult for Bridget and she was sure he felt the same. 

“We should probably just acknowledge that this is unbelievably awkward, no?”  
  
“Sorry?” replied Mark, caught slightly off guard by her straightforward question.  
  
“This. You and me holding a baby, you know, since well... you know.”  
  
“Right, yes, put like that...” he stammered, not having a chance to finish as Jude interrupted.  
  
“Bridget, they want to get a photo with you and me and the baby,” she called, from down the hill.  
  
“Yes. Good,” she replied to her friend, not really wanting to leave Mark quite so soon, no matter how uncomfortable she felt; as she hadn’t spent any discernible amount of time with him in several years.The week prior she had seen him briefly at Daniel’s memorial, even being introduced to his wife after, when they’d run into one another as they all left the service.  
  
“Well. I’ll see you later I shouldn’t wonder,” he murmured with a soft smile.  
  
“Yes... unless I try and make a break for it with this thing. Healthy babies can fetch a fortune on the black market and I desperately need a new boiler.” _God, why am I rambling on? Could this day get any more awkward?Just keep walking, keep walking_ , she thought.He had always had that effect on her, giving her verbal diarrhea when she was nervous, no matter how prepared she thought she was when in his company.Trying to take her mind off of him, off the feelings threatening to bubble to the surface, she glanced at the hive of activity around her as she walked towards Jude; bees and butterflies floated by, attracted by the diversity of flowers, both wild and cultivated, that were growing profusely in the immediate area. 

“Shall we sell you? Shall we?” she cooed, watching as the baby chortled back with a huge smile.  
  
Mark grinned to himself as he watched her walking towards Jude, even laughing outright when he observed the photographer’s horrified look at Bridget’s comment.

—————————

The christening party was well under way at the stately and well-appointed country home where the dinner and then festivities were held, being only a half hour’s drive from the church, in a chocolate-box pretty village.An outside wall was inscribed with the date 1756, although parts of the property pre-dated this by about 100 years. The Grade-II listed building’s doorway led directly into a gracious hallway-cum-sitting room furnished in a sort of modern Jacobean style with cushioned window seats, rich swathes of curtains and comfortable chairs around a fireplace. To the right was a more formal drawing room with exposed beams and a baby grand piano.Both lounges were already in use and the pre-dinner drinking had begun in earnest. Attractive sculptures were placed on sideboards and punctuated the landings, adding an arty charm.

Jude had insisted that Bridget stay overnight with the rest of the guests, especially after her protests of having to return to London for work on Sunday; seeing right through her friend’s reticence of being around Mark and his wife an entire day and evening.

After the dinner party, Bridget began wandering around, taking in the old world charm of the house, unknowingly followed by a crocodile-line of children. After receiving several glances from interested onlookers, she quickly turned, looking back, eyes opening wide in astonishment before she started chuckling at the group of small youngsters that had been tailing behind without her knowledge.She then spotted Mark standing with a group of several fathers, including Giles and Fergus, before turning away when their eyes met, both pretending not to see the other.After noting that Mark’s wife was absent, she managed to discreetly ask Jeremy, his partner in Chambers, if he knew why she hadn’t attended; finding out that she was in the Netherlands on a business trip. 

Feeling in need of a drink, Bridget approached the round bar in the center of the room at the same moment Mark also arrived on the other side, giving her a polite smile as two efficient bartenders worked on other guest’s orders. 

“Hello,” Mark said, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.  
  
“Hello.”  
  
“How are you?”  
  
“Very well, thanks. How are you?”  
  
“I’m fine,” came his reply, only he looked anything but.  
  
“So am I. Well, good bye.”  
  
“Good bye.” He didn’t look at her as he said this, seemingly singularly focused on the bar top.  
  
“Glass of wine. Big, big glass,” she said as soon as her barman approached, almost indesperation.

“Um, whiskey, please. Double,” he was surprised at how much she seemed to be getting under his skin.As he waited, he moved slightly to his left, watching her depart, noticing that she took a large gulp of her wine before turning to walk away. Maybe he wasn’t the only one that was affected by emotions he thought he’d kept locked away for a very long time.

———————

Walking down a long, luxuriously carpeted hallway, Mark spotted Bridget on the floor, heroically trying to stop Magda and Jeremy’s three ill-behaved boys and Shazzer’s twins from killing each other in order to get a turn on the video game controller.

“Wait! I’m about to shoot the pimp!”This came from one boy, as another reached for the controller, trying to pry it from him.  
  
“Zak, your Mum said thirty minutes. Off! Now!” she said, her voice raising slightly, hoping that this would get their attention.

“She said thirty minutes _after_ the first thirty minutes! _No!_ ,” he said gruffly, as Bridget attempted to pry the unit from his hand.  
  
Bridget looked to the telly as it finally registered what was on screen, horrified as the boys proceeded to kick then thump one another vigorously, while one, she wasn’t sure which, started winding her hair around a Thomas the Tank Engine from behind.

“Right! That is no way to treat a lady, boys. Here, look,” she heard Mark’s voice boom from behind, even before she saw him.  
  
Picking up the control, he lithely sat on the floor while the boys clustered around, allowing Bridget to rise to her feet, shocked that Mark Darcy had come to rescue her from ill behaved children.  
  
“Vigilantism is no solution, let the police deal with the pimp, he’ll face a minimum of eight years in custody, assuming no previous, and how about you all sit round and watch this thing with cows in space...” Standing and waiting awkwardly, thinking she had no idea how he managed to calm them, observing the change in behaviour of the young men now absorbed in the movie that Mark had directed their attention to; they seemed to have completely forgotten she existed, to her utter delight.

Mark then spoke without looking up, “Go while the going’s good.”  
  
“Thank you,” she murmured in surprise, backing out of the room.Stopping in the hallway, she looked once again at Mark patiently watching a film with six irritating children, listening to his voice, the timbre of it reminding her just how much she had loved him.  
  
“You see, that’s the first issue right there, cows with opposable thumbs, ludicrous...” she smiled as he continued speaking, his voice fading the further away she walked.


	2. The Beginning

Bridget rejoined the festivities, trying to discreetly slip past a group of women that included Shaz, Magda and Woney, amongst others; pretending to see someone across the room that she must talk to, heading towards the piano and relative safety from pregnant women or mums.

“Here she is. Everyone’s favourite godmother. How many godchildren now, Bridget?” asked Woney, her voice very solicitous.

Thinking she’d like nothing more than to stab her in the arm with a fork, she instead answered by simply saying, “Running into six figures now, Woney,” at the same time giving her a wan smile.

“Better hurry up, though!” she continued, irritatingly.

“Good advice, thanks,” she said, this time turning and walking away, thinking she may truly have to hurt the woman if she stayed in her presence any longer.

The outdoor, side courtyard of the home was beautifully decorated with a floor set up for dancing under an arbor strung with fairy lights, the white stone of the building enclosing the area and serving as a backdrop.Children and adults were jumping about to “Gangnam Style”, the adults being mostly pissed while the children ran around them capriciously.Bridget had put on Jude’s daughter Poppy’s fairy wings, acquiescing when the little girl had begged her to wear the silvery appendage over her dress, laughing as she tried to help her on with them.“You look gorgeous, Aunty Bridget.I want to grow up and be just like you.”Bridget bent down and hugged her tightly, touched at the little girl’s kind words.“I love you, Poppy.Come on, let’s dance.”She moved out onto the dance floor, losing her once Poppy spotted two small boys almost immediately, before she joined another group of children, performing the horse-riding and lassoing motion like an expert, laughing merrily with her fellow dancers, mesmerizing the onlookers with her uninhibited movements.Fergus and Shaz were at the deejay station, both smiling at Bridget’s cavorting after Giles pointed her out to them; an unexpected combination of grace and light-heartedness all at once.Catching her attention, Sharon smiled at her friend, happy to see that she was enjoying herself.

Mark found himself standing to the side, aloof, feeling a bit tortured by it all, until he spotted Bridget; grinning at her free spirit, inadvertently enthralled. He observed her laughing when she saw Poppy mimicking her moves, looking up when she sensed Mark’s eyes on her, before dancing over to him. Above the beating music they talked about nothing important, Mark going on about ancient history or something else that had her totally confused, but to Bridget it seemed nice. During the course of the long day, she felt they had at least come to a truce; the uneasiness dissipating after a few drinks by them both and Mark helping save her from the rambunctious children. 

Fergus and Shaz spotted Bridget standing with Mark.Always a romantic, nudging his wife, Fergus changed the music to a lovely slow song, perfect for a close dance, before saying, “Now a little something for all you lovers out there.We’re entering the erection section.”

Mark and Bridget’s eyes met immediately at his words, before grinning at Sharon’s outburst directly following her husband’s verbal blunder.

“Would you care to dance?After all, Fergus is playing our song,” she asked with a wink, feeling that after everything they’d been through together, their shared past, a dance could be enjoyable. Walking back out to the dance floor, Bridget moved close to Mark, while his arms stiffly enveloped her.Looking up to him, she was reminded just how much taller he was than she.“This is nice,” she said sincerely, feeling him relax too, as he pulled her gently closer, allowing her to lay her cheek against his lapel, breathing in the fragrance of his cologne, the uniqueness of him, memories racing back, threatening to overpower her.

He hoped the sound of the music was enough to drown out the beat of his heart, thinking she’d surely hear it with her ear on his chest, realize how much he wanted to kiss her at this moment. These thoughts came unbidden into his mind, catching him quite off-guard. He was a married man, for God’s sake, had never had these feelings for anyone in the years he’d been with Camilla. But he had purposefully avoided Bridget and any functions that their common friends may have had if there was even the remotest chance of her attending, feeling it would be in his best interests if he didn’t see her. As much as he liked to think he was in control of himself, of his feelings, he knew that where she was concerned, he was totally at her mercy, would do anything she asked of him. This realization had unfortunately come too late to save their relationship, as she had chucked him once and for all over his work schedule; tired of taking a back seat to his career and incessant travel.

As the music faded into another slow love song, Mark asked, “Would you like to get some air?”, almost desperately needing to break apart from her.

Seemingly unaffected by their closeness, she laughed lightly, looking up at the twinkling stars overhead, her expression one of confusion.

“I mean some _more_ air.”He explained, not making any sense at all.  
  
They strolled onto a terrace, overlooking a moonlit lake, before he asked, “I don’t suppose you happen to have a cigarette?”  
  
Shocked at his question, she said with more than a little surprise in her voice, “No. I gave up. One thousand eight hundred and ninety one days ago.”What she didn’t say was that this coincided with his marrying someone else.Someone other than her.  
  
“Not that you were counting...” came his reply, oblivious to the meaning of when exactly she had stopped.  
  
“Since when did you smoke?”  
  
“I don’t. It’s been a tense time. And maybe I’m nervous.”  
  
Stopping, she faced him, asking, “Why?”  
  
He seemed about to say something of importance, but instead came out with, “You have a train in your hair.”  
  
Laughing lightly at a statement that seemed to her completely out of the blue, she nervously replied, “I am aware of that. Courtesy of one of my many godchildren.”His heartfelt look was causing her to feel extremely self conscious, seeming to see directly into her thoughts.

He next caught her completely off guard when he moved close, reaching behind her neck, into her hair, while attempting to free the tangled toy, before saying, “Seems to be stuck. And this would be... cake?”  
  
He was so near to her she couldn’t look him in the eye, afraid he would know the effect his closeness was having on her, answering as steadily as she could manage, “Profiterole.”  
  
Still holding the back of her neck, he moved even closer, as he said very softly, “Ah, technically more of a dessert than a cake, I suppose.”  
  
She wasn’t sure who moved first.When they began kissing, her thoughts immediately went to the fact that he was married, that she, _they_ , should not be doing this.She broke away, looking into his eyes, seeing an anguish that matched her own.She then saw them change, recognizing the raw emotion in them, understanding how much he still loved her, before she placed her hand on his cheek, kissing him intensely, unable to stop herself.  
  
The words she next spoke surprised her, spilling out before she could stop them, “Mark, can we go to your room?”He seemed taken back, but quickly recovered, smiling before kissing her again, almost as if he didn’t believe that he was this close to her once more, whispering, “You’re sure?”, somehow seeming like a gentleman when what they were about to do was the furthest thing from honourable there could be.Her response was to take his hand and start walking to the house, afraid that if she stopped for even a moment, she wouldn’t be able to go through with this; was sure that her rational mind would overrule her body’s desire.

Upon entering the home, the crowded dance floor was a jolt to her senses, as mums, dads and children were all miming the actions to YMCA, dancing riotously around to the beating music. Breaking apart to better hide their clandestine meeting, she felt Mark pass his room key to her, gently squeezing her hand as he did, reassuring her that he wanted this as much as she.Momentarily slowing to pick up the sweater and handbag that she had left on the sideboard, she watched him on the other side of the room, not able to pull her eyes away, feeling as if they were the only two people in the world, even as partygoers danced between them.She gave him a small smile before briefly moving behind a wall in front of the staircase; his return look causing her knees to almost buckle in anticipation.Just as they were about to meet again, having transversed the room separately, to join again at the landing leading to the rooms, he was stopped by Giles, beer in hand, slightly pissed by now, thanking him again for standing in last minute for Tom.If Giles hadn’t been drunk, he surely would have noticed Bridget on the stairs, heading to the second floor and Mark’s room.He also wouldn’t have missed where Mark’s eyes were focused as he droned on, not able to take them from Bridget, wanting nothing more than to be with her, to be able to hold her again.Finally breaking free, having no earthly idea about anything his friend had just said, Mark took the stairs two at a time, trying to catch up to her.

Pausing briefly after entering the room, enough to get his bearings in the low light, he saw Bridget at the window, before striding purposefully to her.Meeting him halfway, his arms went around her back, pulling her to him, their kiss picking up where they had left off previously.Trying to undo the many tiny buttons down her back, running the length of the dress, he asked, “How the _fuck_ am I supposed to get in here?” before both broke into laughter, at total ease now that they were truly alone.  
  
Falling onto the bed together, he divested her of the dress quickly, even with the offending buttons. Her hands frantically removed his shirt, taking care of his cuff links, so not to lose them. Lovingly, he pressed his lips to her chest, running his tongue between them, gently at first then with more urgency as her moans escalated. He had forgotten just how responsive she was, her every movement eliciting a natural reaction from him. She was moaning as his hand moved across her stomach, pushing her pants down, his fingers moving expertly into her, remembering the places that caused her to become even more vocal, crying out his name now, before he quickly removed the rest of his clothes. He wanted to enjoy this moment, to prolong it for as long as he could, but when she begged him to continue, started to kiss his mouth with a vehemence that startled him, then pulled him closer and over top of her, he lost all willpower, thrusting into her as she arched up to meet him. Their kisses were frantic, both seemingly not able to get enough of the other, her fingers digging into his back, pulling him even tighter. She quickly recalled how much she loved being with him, how much she had missed their lovemaking these last few years. No matter how often she might come to regret this decision in future, the feeling he was causing in her now was enough to make her push aside any remorse.

After they were both spent, he pulled her to him, kissing her face and into her hair. Neither said a word, their breathing slowly returning to normal. There was so much that now hung between them, neither knew what to say, preferring to enjoy the afterglow rather than think about the implications of their actions. After several minutes, Mark began kissing her neck, turning her so that they were face to face. He had no words to offer her, no declarations of love as in the past. They both had only what they now shared in this moment, knowing that it shouldn’t have happened and could never occur again. He pulled her to him once more, not ready to have their time together end.

“Again?Mr. Darcy. Wow.” She smiled at him, refusing to think past this moment, beyond the passion that was unquenchable between them. 

Their second round was much more unhurried though no less satisfying. Lying with his arm over her, he said her name. “Bridget?”  
  
“Yes?” she answered, feeling fully satisfied and relaxed.  
  
“Were you faking not having an orgasm?”  
  
“Uh huh,” she said sheepishly.  
  
“Why do you _do_ that?”

“So you won’t stop,” came her reply.The same answer she always responded with when he had asked her this in the past.

“God, I’ve missed you.”The tone of his voice betrayed how emotional he was.

Several minutes later, she could feel his regular breathing against her skin where he held her from behind.Just as she too was about to follow suit and join him in sleep, his mobile lit up from the side table closest to her. A text flashed on the screen from Camilla, complete with a photograph: ‘Call me. X’.  
  
Now fully awake, reflecting on what had just transpired between them, she quietly got up, giving him a tender kiss on the cheek before gathering her clothes and leaving.  
  
Waking the next morning, he felt a smile cross his lips, recalling the evening before, looking over to where she lay, “Bridget?”  
  
He was immediately met with an ominous silence.Looking around, he felt himself deflate, before spying a note on the bedside table, realizing she had already left.  
  
‘I’m so sorry, Mark. Had to leave. This probably sounds pathetic but I got scared... and I’m not sure either of us are ready to deal with this. We always loved the fantasy of us. But the reality, especially now, is quite different. BRIDGET.’

—————

Walking to his car in the early dusk of a cool London evening, hands in pockets, his thoughts were still on the meeting he’d just left, happy that for once they weren’t focused on Bridget.Since their tryst, his mind had refused to let go of the memory, of the intimacy they’d shared after so many years apart.But each thought of that night came with overwhelming feelings of guilt, of disappointment in his actions.He didn’t consider himself a demonstrative or overly passionate person and was very deliberate in his thoughts, of _everything_ in his life.But he had been proven wrong about these long-held beliefs; his inner compass now feeling completely broken; unable to reconcile his deeds with who he always thought and assumed he was.

The sharp, high pitched beep of a car hooter jolted him from his reverie. Looking to the source of the noise, he immediately recognized Bridget behind the wheel. Crossing the street, taking care of traffic even on a small side road of the busy city, he bent down as she lowered the window. This was the first time they’d seen each other since their rendezvous at the christening. He could discern his pulse racing, wondering, assuming, how horrid she must feel for allowing the situation between them to get so out of hand; surmising that if she felt half as bad as he, she would be wrecked and wanting, rightfully, to give him a piece of her mind. 

He almost couldn’t meet her eyes as she said hello, but felt he owed her this.He blamed himself for what had happened between them.After all, he was the married one; had taken vows that promised his fidelity to another. 

“Get in, please,” she asked, with an urgency of tone that surprised him.Quickly glancing about to ensure they weren’t observed, he opened the door and sat, immediately looking to her and apologizing abjectly, stating, “Bridget, I am _so_ very sorry for what happened.I shouldn’t have-”

With the car ticking over, she cut him off sharply when she leant over the center console, placed her hand on his face and kissed him with a tenacity and determination that took his breath away.Immediately he returned her kiss with a passion that surprised him, before forcing his mind to clear, allowing him to break away; monumentally fighting the urge to continue what she had started, trying to control the intense feelings that she had once again stirred in him.

The look of astonishment on his face caused her to laugh softly, if not a little bitterly.“Bridget, I thought... Your note made it quite clear that what happened between us was a mistake,” he floundered. 

“It was.Is.But unfortunately that isn’t stopping me from wanting to make that same mistake again.”They were very close while saying this, having just broke from their embrace, staring into one another’s eyes. 

“We shouldn’t. You have to understand my predicament,” his tone was desolate, even causing her to momentarily feel sympathy towards him.She had spent the days immediately following the christening and night spent with Mark furious at herself.First, for sleeping with a married man, never contemplating that she would allow herself to be in such a situation, much less with Mark Darcy.She knew him so well, knew his propensity for doing the right thing.Even though it had sometimes driven her batty, it was one of the attributes she most admired in him.So for this to have happened, she was sure it had shaken him to his core.

As these thoughts ran through her head, she felt him shift a little, moving slightly towards her, almost imperceptibly, but enough so that he began to kiss her chin, her neck, causing her to moan out loud with the sensuousness of his lips on her skin, a feeling and longing that until last week she had kept hidden from the world, but especially from herself. The bright headlamps suddenly shining into her car from behind interrupted and broke them apart once again, their breathing rapid and heavy. As she started to move the car forward, she heard him ask in a tortured voice, “Can we go to your flat?”, his tone betraying the argument going on with his conscience, with his sense of duty. She smiled to herself thinking that only for her would he make this choice, while at the same time cursing him for making her feel this way, for wanting him so much that she was willing to ruin herself in the process, praying that she could maintain perspective where he was concerned; but knowing it may already be a bit late for that. 

Once inside her flat, she turned to him, an awkward silence floating between them.The drive, although not long, had cooled their ardor, giving them both a chance to rethink their actions. 

“May I ask how you knew where to find me?” he questioned, looking her directly in the eyes, not flinching.He didn’t know what to say at this juncture, thinking if they could possibly stop this from moving forward, then maybe they could retain some shred of self-esteem, of respect.Even while he waited for her to answer, he was vitally aware that they were alone in her flat once again.A place where they had spent so much time together, both as friends and lovers; a place that once inside, he could think of one thing only; of going with her to the bedroom, to again feel the passion that they had rekindled during their encounter, that they had always shared; and if he was truthful, a passion he had missed in his life since their break-up, never expecting to experience it with her again.

“Magda and I were talking,” at his surprised look, she clarified, “ _not_ about us, when she mentioned that you, Jeremy and several others were at a dinner meeting at Gladstone’s and that he was just heading home.So, I took a chance.I honestly didn’t expect to catch you on your own.”

While telling him this, she had subtly moved closer, so they were now standing only inches apart.He wasn’t sure if he had moved also, but felt like a moth to the flame, inexorably drawn to her, whatever his noble intentions might have been.Leaning in, she took his hand and placed it on her breast, inside her low cut jumper, looking to his face to observe his reaction.He closed his eyes momentarily, willing his hand not to move, until it did.Unable to stop himself, he ran his thumb over the hard point, feeling just how aroused she was.Her sharp intake of breath sent a jolt of electricity through him; knowing he could make her feel this way after so much time apart.Her hands now moved to his belt, unfastening it slowly, before she undid the button at his waist.She was moving very deliberately and unhurriedly, giving him ample time to stop her if he wanted to.The issue was, the slower she moved, the more sensual it seemed to him.He couldn’t recall the last time he had felt this way, other than with her the prior week.When her hand unzipped his trousers, dipping beneath his boxers, he was lost, knowing there was only one way this night was going to end.

Taking his hand, she turned and led him to her bedroom, feeling that for her anyway, it was too late to stop this from happening again. He followed her willingly, past the point of no return, feeling nothing short of a nuclear bomb blast could cause him to turn back now.


	3. A Mother’s Instinct

Each time that Bridget and Mark met over the next few weeks, they swore it would be their last; then they would only manage a few days, at most, before she called his office or he rang her mobile. At the beginning, they would simply check in, genuinely interested in the other’s well being, glad to be talking regularly once more, albeit clandestinely. It was enough that they were in weekly contact. About a month after their affair began, Mark inadvertently spent the night at Bridget’s. His wife was out of town visiting her sister and wouldn’t return until late Sunday night. His plan was to see her Friday evening, go home late that night, then follow his normal weekend plans of squash with Jeremy and grocery shopping. He would let Bridget determine the course of the rest of the weekend. 

After an evening of takeaway Indian food shared on her couch in front of the telly, they woke to sun streaming in the windows, never having pulled the shades shut.It was already after 8AM, a true luxury for Mark to sleep so late.He didn’t quite stick to his plan of leaving the evening prior as there wasn’t a hurry with his wife out of town. Making small talk, they lazed around for an hour more, leisurely making love, afterwards having coffee in bed.His altered plan was to be out by noon to meet Jeremy for their game, as much as he now wanted nothing more than to spend the entire day with Bridget.He’d even told her he’d make an excuse to put off Jeremy but lunch plans with her mother had precluded that.Not knowing what she had planned for the evening he thought it best to let her broach the subject.He certainly wasn’t in any position to monopolize her time just because he happened to be free.

Laying on top of him underneath the sheets, they were laughing when he kissed her while she tried to escape, ostensibly so she could shower in anticipation of meeting her mum and Una for lunch in a few hours.The sound of a key in the lock and the front door opening brought them both down to earth rather quickly.Eyes wide in fright, Bridget threw on some trackie bottoms and a white t shirt, running for the bedroom door as fast as she could, knowing her mum’s habit of showing up unannounced, letting herself in without knocking, usually staying for fifteen agonizing minutes, before leaving just as quickly, while Bridget was left trying to determine the purpose of her visit in the first place.

True to form, Pam Jones walked into Bridget’s kitchen, all but blind to the signs that she may have an overnight guest still in residence.On the counter sat two empty wine glasses and in the sink were dinner plates from the evening prior while a pair of men’s dress shoes were under the dining room table. Una was directly behind her and to Bridget’s utter mortification, Mark’s mum brought up the rear, having the wherewithal to at least look embarrassed by their unexpected visit; the only one of the three that seemed to realize they may have interrupted something.Elaine caught Bridget’s eye, giving her a sympathetic look before trying to corral her friends into leaving Bridget alone.

“Una, Pam, let’s go and leave Bridget be.We’ll see you at lunch dear, at 1:00.”She then kissed Bridget’s cheek, whispering, “Go back to bed, I’ll keep them busy until you can join us,” nodding to the bedroom in full understanding of what was going on. 

When they turned to leave, Elaine glanced at the shoes on the floor, recognizing them instantly.She had bought the same shoes for Mark as a birthday gift. _Well, at least Bridget’s new beau has good taste_ , she thought, knowing the shoes were Italian and hand made. 

As Una drove towards Bond Street so they could begin their shopping, just after she pulled away from the kerb in front of Bridget’s flat, Elaine noticed a car a few hundred meters away that she recognized as Mark’s, even bearing a pass on the front windscreen for on-site parking.She’d have to ask him what he was doing at Borough Market on a Saturday morning and if his wife had joined him.Until she recalled that Camilla was away for the weekend visiting relatives.Suddenly, she felt very sick.The shoes in Bridget’s flat, the obvious evidence of a man in the bedroom, one who had spent the night and now her son’s car parked very close by.Trying to calm her racing thoughts, she was certain she was overreacting, that the shoes and automobile were coincidental; she knew her son and was certain that he wasn’t capable of what she was now thinking.Until she remembered how utterly heartbroken he had been when they split.And even though she and Mark’s father were surprised at how quickly he married after he and Bridget broke up, it seemed to be a happy match.She also knew that he’d never completely gotten over her; but would he put aside everything they’d taught him, everything she thought he was, to be with her again, while married to someone else?Would Bridget sleep with Mark knowing he was married?She had to trust her son.If her suspicions turned out to be correct, she didn’t know what she would do, not able to contemplate the unfathomable. From the front seat, Una observed, “Elaine, you’re being awfully quiet back there.You didn’t fall asleep on us, did you?” 

Dragged out of her reverie, she answered quickly, “Just thinking about what I’m going to get Malcolm for his birthday.I’d love to find something today, so I can put my mind to rest and not have to worry for the next month.” _There_ , she thought, _that seemed totally normal and sane_.Until she blurted, “Pam, is Bridget seeing anyone these days?”, not really knowing if any answer would set her mind at ease until she spoke to Mark.

“No, not at the moment.I had hopes for an American she’d recently been seeing, but evidently it didn’t work out in the long run.Too bad, he had loads of money.I’m really not sure what she’s waiting on.If she’d only married Mark, Elaine!I’m sure we’d be grandparents by now!”

When Bridget walked back into her bedroom, she saw Mark sitting on the edge of the bed in his boxers, looking very intent.He asked her to sit next to him, saying, “I’m going to have to tell her.” Bridget’s heart stopped.“Tell whom?”Camilla??His mother?Tell her what exactly?That he was shagging his ex-fiancé while now married to someone else? If he did, where did that leave her?Elaine would think she was awful; a woman willing to not only break her son’s heart,but now destroy his marriage.If he told his wife, their marriage would be over.Maybe it should be, if he was willing to do this with her.But they hadn’t discussed any of this.Would she even be willing to see him again on a regular basis, after all they’d been through?Did he want her back in his life, other than for what they had now? 

“Mark, you can’t.We need, _must_ , stop this now.We’ve both said as much over the last month, but then it’s always one more time.We’re equally guilty.I’m not blaming you any more than I blame myself.But we knew it couldn’t work in the long run.We tried before and we both know what happened. And this situation is...” she didn’t finish, not knowing how to describe the state of affairs they now found themselves; except as precisely that, a full-blown affair.


	4. Home

After cancelling his afternoon game with Jeremy, Mark went home for several hours, then made the decision to make the almost two hour drive to his parent’s house, knowing that he very well may beat his mother there by several hours.Upon arrival in Grafton Underwood, he and his father had a late lunch of cold cuts and a salad on the expansive back patio, discussing some of Mark’s recent work cases and Malcolm’s card matches with a local group of players that he had recently joined, obviously enjoying the camaraderie that the twice weekly games afforded him.Rather oblivious to his son’s state of mind, he did finally ask, “Mark, is there a reason you decided to visit your mother and I today?I’m certainly happy to see you, but an unannounced call isn’t like you.Is everything all right, son?”

Not being an overly expressive person, it touched Mark that his father would ask if anything was bothering him.He was certainly his father’s son in that regards, much preferring to keep his emotions to himself.His one true confidante was his mother, but even to her he had been reticent about opening up to on his affair with Bridget, not wanting to disappoint her with his actions or cast Bridget in a bad light, therefore he had never raised the subject with her.

Smiling reassuringly, he responded, “Yes, father.Camilla’s out of town, and as I had no other plans for the weekend, thought it would be a good time to make the drive.When do you expect mother back?”

After finding out Elaine should be back in a little over an hour, they both sat and enjoyed the football match on the telly, sharing a bitter, watching in the comfortable den.After a half hour Mark heard soft snoring and looking over, saw his father fast asleep.Taking the blanket from the back of the couch, he carefully laid it over his legs, mindful not to wake him.He then got up, took another beer from the kitchen and went back to the rear patio, sitting in an old rocker, trying to work his way through the many thoughts that were running around in his head.The pastoral scene of green grass, gently rolling hills, large English oak trees and sycamores calmed his somewhat frayed nerves.He and Bridget had effectively ended their relationship, again.She had been right, they couldn’t continue indefinitely as they had been.He couldn’t keep living a double life, acting as if all was fine when his wife asked him if there was something bothering him.She had always been able to read his moods and picked up on his aloofness straight away.She had left him alone, waiting for him to come to her to talk, but when he didn’t, she told him she was going to her sister’s for the weekend, hoping that whatever may be bothering him would work it’s way out if he had some time on his own.

Driving up to the large house and pulling into the circular gravel drive, Elaine immediately spotted Mark’s car, fearful of what his visit implied. Whatever he revealed to her, he would always be her son and she would help him through his troubles. She just prayed that it wasn’t what she suspected, especially after her lunch with Bridget. She had always liked Pam and Colin’s daughter and didn’t blame her for she and Mark’s break up, but after lunch, after seeing how nervous Bridget acted, she was beginning to think her worst fears may be proven correct.

Mark was so lost in thought that he was startled when he felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder, jumping at her touch.“Mother,” he said, standing up.Looking into her eyes, he knew then that she knew, realizing just how much he had let her down.Embracing him in a gentle hug, she asked, “Mark, how did this happen?”

She was greatly surprised when she felt him crying, feeling her heart break for him.“Shh, shh,” she said, trying to comfort her son, knowing how very hard this was for him to open up about his less than admirable actions, letting him get his pent up emotions out.She had only seen him cry as an adult on one other occasion; when he and Bridget had broken up for good.It had broken her heart then and was doing so now.She would listen to his explanations, try to understand his motives and offer whatever insight she might have, hoping that she could somehow help him through this.

Finally he let her go, wiping at his eyes before sitting heavily into the rocker again as she took the chair next to him.He didn’t speak for several minutes, clearly finding the right words hard to summon. 

“Mother, I still love her more than I thought capable.Enough so that I let my wife down, you and father down, myself down.And ultimately I let Bridget down, by giving in to my desire for her.I had purposely avoided any contact with her over the last few years, knowing how muchI still cared.And after one night of seeing her, of being with her, I’mlost again, willing to give up everything, even my self respect, to spend time with her.”

She reached for his hand, hearing the self-loathing in his voice, “Oh, Mark. I am _so_ sorry that things didn’t work out for you and Bridget when you were together.But I can’t condone what you’re now doing.” 

He looked up at her words, the pain on his face evident.“We’ve broken it off.”He stopped then, breathing in raggedly before continuing again.“I can’t continue with my marriage now that I’ve allowed this to happen.I’m going to ask Camilla for a divorce.”

His words shocked her, not fully understanding that he and Bridget had ended things forever.“Have you and Bridget discussed what comes next if you divorce?How will you two proceed?I don’t mean to bring back bad memories, but your relationship with her was not in a good place when she ended it.”

“We’re not moving forward together. We discussed it this morning and...” he stopped there, not being able to finish stating that he and Bridget had no future.Just as they hadn’t the last time they had been a couple.It seemed to him that he was destined to live his life without the woman he truly loved.

“Then Mark, why don’t you try to work things out with Camilla?Your marriage seemed like a good match; talk to her about what happened, let her know how you feel.At least give her the chance to understand, to make an informed decision about your marriage.” 

“How mother? Should I tell her what I did, to assuage _my_ guilt, hurting her in the process?I don’t know how to make this right...” he leaned over, putting his face in his hands, obviously distraught.

“I can tell you from experience that you can get through this.”He quickly looked over at her, anguish and now surprise on his face.

Continuing, she told him, “Your father and I married very young.With his work, he was often gone for months at a time.The man I met was older and a doctor.I volunteered at the hospital where he was on staff.I’m not proud of my actions.When your father came home, I told him I wanted a divorce, to marry Anthony.I moved out and back in with my parents.Malcolm was devastated.I didn’t see him for over two months.In that time, the thrill of the affair wore off and I missed your father tremendously.I will forever be grateful to him for his forgiveness.”

“Mother, I never knew,” said Mark in astonishment, knowing that this was a very personal detail of her past that she was sharing with him. 

“My point, Mark, is that we could have gone our separate ways if not for your father’s understanding.If I hadn’t been honest with him, if I had lied about what I did, no matter how hard it was to tell him, it wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.We were both in the relationship, it wasn’t up to me to make the decision alone, without him being aware of the facts.”

————

After an early dinner, Mark went up to bed, spending the night in his old room.Thinking of his mother’s revelation, he now saw his father in a different light; never thinking his gruff exterior was hiding someone capable of such compassion and tolerance.He also viewed his mother slightly different, trying to reconcile the person he thought he knew with what she had revealed to him; she seemed more fallible now and not the perfect human he had always thought of her as.He wasn’t disappointed in her, instead he felt closer to her than ever, knowing she too had been faced with difficult decisions in her life and had made the right choices for herself and her family, no matter how hard they were.


	5. Sabbatical

Bridget had never been depressed in her life. At least not for more than a day and nothing that dinner and drinks with friends couldn’t cure; her long ago break-up with Mark being the one exception. If she felt very badly, some retail therapy with Tom, Shaz or Jude had her spirits improved enough so that she was back to her old self, making her friends laugh again, quickly forgetting her troubles. The funk she now found herself in had them worried more than she knew. As they waited for her to join them for dinner and drinks, the three discussed their friend’s seeming malaise.

“You know, the last time she acted this wrecked was when she chucked Mark,” said Tom, before taking a long draw from his drink.“Actually, when she found out he’d married.”

“She’s not even dating anyone currently, is she?” replied Jude, grabbing a chip out of the basket on the table, before dipping it into the guacamole.“She was certainly out of pocket a lot over the past month though.Every time I called, she was always running out the door, meeting one of you two.By the way, why wasn’t I ever invited along?I know I have sprogs, but the least you could do is ask.It’s not like either of you are fancy free teenagers.”

“I haven’t seen her in weeks,” said Sharon, while waving at the waitress, trying unsuccessfully to get her attention to let her know she was ready for another margarita. They both then looked at Tom accusingly, as if he’d been hoarding her, keeping her to himself.

“Don’t look at me!I haven’t seen her in at least a fortnight. And by the way, she gave me the same excuse, that she was off to meet one of you.”

“You do know what this means, don’t you?” Jude asked them, laughing.At their quizzical looks, she continued, “She’s shagging someone and doesn’t want us to know!” 

“Then why the depression?If she were shagging every night, you’d think she’d be ecstatic.Especially after her recent dry spell,” added Tom, a little more in the know about their friend’s sex life than he should have been.

“Shh, here she is.Maybe she’ll confess who the secret man is, or was!” Jude said, trying to act nonchalant as their friend approached. 

“Bridgelene, my dear! So nice to see you again,” Tom said this while looking at Jude and Shazzer sideways, trying to impart to them the importance of being uplifting and supportive. “You’re still so thin!” He then kissed her on both cheeks, telling Jude, “Budge up and make some room,” pulling her chair close to him. 

Once she had joined them, he swiveled, motioning to the waitress again, letting her know they now had a fourth at the table.After she’d left to put their order in, the three friends continued to pester Bridget, trying but failing when they couldn’t get her to divulge who she’d been seeing the last few weeks. 

“Stop, please!It’s over now,” the smile she had on her face not quite reaching her eyes. 

It was Sharon who finally said, “Fuck, Bridget, you’d think you were seeing Mark again, the way you’re acting!Tom even said you haven’t been this morose since you found out he’d married.”As Mark had been married for a little over five years, they quickly moved the conversation on, never contemplating their friend capable of having a fling with a married man, much less that moralistic Mark Darcy would have an extramarital affair.At Sharon’s remark, Tom had noticed the color slowly drain from her face, but when he turned and handed her the glass of wine she’d requested, the smile was back in place, as if nothing had happened.

After their dinner, Tom offered Bridget a ride home, almost insisting when she said she’d take a mini-cab.Once at her flat in Borough, he walked her to the building’s door, asking if he could come up for a nightcap. 

“Yes, of course, but why, Tom?” she asked suspiciously, opening the door and leading them up the stairs.Stepping inside and moving up the small staircase, she went to the kitchen and pulled out two small rocks glasses, filling them with ice.“Irish Creme or Espresso Creme?” she called out, until she turned and saw he’d followed right behind her instead of going to the couch.The look he had on his face telling her he suspected something.

“Bridge, when exactly did it start?At the christening?” he asked, very directly.The disturbed look on her face told him he’d hit the nail on the head, honestly not believing her capable of what she was now confessing to.Seeing tears forming in her eyes, he pulled her tight and into a hug. Leaning back a little, she looked up at him in disbelief, tears now streaming down her face. “How did you know?” 

“I’ve only seen you this gutted two times and both had to do with Mark Darcy.And you mentioned seeing him at the christening, when he replaced me.But it’s been more than once, hasn’t it?That’s why you’vegone missing these last weeks.”

Her silence confirmed his suspicions.She was now softly sobbing, all the bottled up feelings she’d been holding in, telling no one due to her shame, bubbling to the top, hopeful that her friend wouldn’t judge her too harshly. He continued to hold her, pulling her close once more while she cried into his chest. When she started talking, it was as if a floodgate of emotions had opened, the words tumbling out on top of each other, one after another. 

“Tom, I don’t even know how it started.We danced together, went for a walk, just to talk.It’d been so long since we’d seen each other, spent any amount of time with one another.We kissed... and I asked him to take me to his room.”She stopped there, waiting for his condemnation, to hear him tell her how wrong she was; fully expecting to be berated for her less than admirable actions.

“Oh, love, Mark Darcy’s always been your Waterloo.I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this again.You’ll always love him... and he you.But how did it go longer than the initial encounter at the christening?I’m shocked either of you allowed it to happen a second time, much less continue for a month.”Taking her hand, he led her to the couch, setting his glass on the table and doing the same with hers.He turned to her expectantly, concern on his face for his friend’s obvious heartbreak, knowing she desperately needed a friend to talk to.

“He was all I could think about.I was consumed by emotions that he stirred in me again, but I didn’t _plan_ to act on them.I know he’s married, he’s not mine anymore.Then one night, a week after we’d been together, Magda and I were on the phone when she casually mentioned that Mark, Jeremy and several others were just leaving dinner very near to here.”She stopped, took a sip of her drink, a big breath and continued, feeling cathartic that she could finally discuss her clandestine affair.“Tom, we both knew what we had done was wrong, that it could _never_ happen again.If Mark felt anywhere near as remorseful as I did, I knew he was suffering with a guilty conscience.”

She was crying again, not able to look him in the eye.“I don’t know why I went to see him.I wanted to bollocks and shag him at the same time.I caught him as he was walking to his car, just after he’d said goodbye to Jeremy.I asked him to get in and then I...”

“You what?” he asked, truly wondering what Bridget could have done to get the uptight Mark Darcy to cheat on his wife, and on more then one occasion.

“I kissed him, but this time _he_ asked if we could go to my flat.Oh, Tom, it was like we were never apart these last few years.I cancelled plans in case he called, living for the hope of seeing him again, of being with him one more time. What am I doing in this position?This is what first loves do, not women who have careers and _not_ with a married man.”

————————

Mark looked out over his desk, through the windows and to the sparkling nighttime view of the city; the rolling hills illuminated by the lights of people in their homes, showing the steep contours of the terrain, the black water of the bay dark and inky in contrast to the land.“Mother, I’m not sure at this time,” he explained, for what felt like the hundredth time.He had been in America for several months now, having taken a position at the University of San Francisco, teaching human rights law.The question she had asked was if he would be home to visit for Christmas.

He took the post after ending his marriage of five years; telling his wife about his infidelity; but contrary to his mother’s advice, not to ask her forgiveness but to end a situation that he could no longer tolerate.Camilla has been stunned and hurt by his confession.When he wouldn’t divulge the identity of the other woman, she’d been furious, calling him things he would like to forget, but ultimately feeling he deserved whatever vitriol she aimed at him.Believing a change of scenery may improve his outlook, he left the career that had meant so much to him, requesting and taking a sabbatical from Chambers and moved to San Francisco; an ocean and continent away from London and Bridget.

After the final break from Camilla, when he had moved out of the home they shared, he had been torn between contacting Bridget, confessing his undiminished feelings to her, in the hope that she felt the same, especially after their short interlude, or taking time to evaluate his failed marriage, and where he was going in his life.While he felt completely over Camilla, the fact remained that it would take time to unravel himself from his marriage, from the guilt he felt at not only physically cheating on his wife of five years, but also the realization that he now knew to be true, that he may never truly get over Bridget.Did that fact mean that he could never find lasting happiness with another woman, or had he just not found that person yet?

In the end, he tried to ring up Bridget, hoping to speak with her before leaving London, but she wouldn’t take his calls, not even when he asked Jeremy to intercede and have her call him.Unknown to Mark, Bridget felt she had to stay away, for her own sanity and for the sake of his marriage, feeling if he and his wife had any chance of reconciliation she could not take up with him again. 


	6. California

Bridget too was faced with a life changing decision.After her confession to Tom, she actively sought a position away from London and Mark, feeling the further from him she was the better her conscience would feel and the less temptation she’d have.She’d made it abundantly clear that their short lived reunion was over and that she would have nothing more to do with him; what she didn’t admit was that she couldn’t trust herself in the same town, and that frightened her very badly, wondering if she had it in herself to go with grace, if she could walk away from him once again.

In the ensuing weeks, she had several interviews, even traveling to three cities for quick, two day trips; with Chicago and Los Angeles making her final cut.Both offers were to produce a local, nightly news programme, but the deciding factor was that she could better continue her fledgling writing career; hoping to eventually create and sell a screenplay if she were in Los Angeles.She believed living and working in the city where the television and movie industry was such a integral part of its commerce would give her a better opportunity than any of the other options.

“You know, Mark’s now living in California.”Her friend Magda dropped this bombshell on her after Bridget excitedly told her about the job in LA.“He’s in San Francisco though, just started teaching at Uni.”Bridget had stopped by her friend’s home after leaving work, on the way to her flat at the end of a long day.

Trying to hide her surprise, Bridget asked, “Jeremy told me he’d separated from his wife, but how are they meant to work it out if he’s in the States?Or did she go with him?” 

“I don’t know the entire story and I’m not sure Jeremy does either.Mark’s always kept things very close to the vest.But evidently he was unfaithful.Camilla’s trying to take him to the cleaners, although it’s not like she needs his money.She’s one of the most sought after family law barristers in London.”

“So, they’re definitely divorcing? No hope of reconciliation?” Bridget was more than upset over news of the state of Mark’s marriage, hating to think she had been the cause of its demise, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach at the information, wondering yet again how she had allowed herself to fall victim to her base desires, letting them control her actions. She didn’t even have the excuse of alcohol on any of the subsequent times she and Mark had met and even the time at the christening could hardly be blamed on anything other than her own yearning to be with him once more. She only knew that if she didn’t see him again, didn’t _feel_ him lying beside her, she thought she’d go mad.

Shaking her head no, Magda continued, “If Mark Darcy had an affair, I’ve just given up all hope for the male of our species. I’m not sure I believe the gossip though as it seems to have started in her camp. He took a year sabbatical from Chambers. It was all very sudden. He’s only left a little over a week ago. Jeremy’s been moping around like a Year Two schoolboy missing his best mate. Mark seemed fine at Jude’s baby’s christening but looking back, it does seem strange he was there without his wife. You danced with him, did you notice anything?”

“No!” she replied, almost too quickly.“Jeremy said she was away due to work or I’m sure she would have joined him.He seemed right as rain when we spoke.”She was sure she was turning red, feeling the heat rise in her neck as it slowly crept up her face, causing her to break out in a sweat just under her eyes. 

At that moment, Magda’s husband came in the house through the garage door, kissing his wife and turning to hug and give Bridget a welcome snog on the cheek.“Hi, what brings you by?” he asked warmly, walking to the refrigerator and pulling out a beer, offering her one before she shook her head no.

“She’s moving to the States for work.California.Just like Mark!” replied Magda for her friend. 

Jeremy’s look of shock at his wife’s words had Magda laughing til tears came from her eyes, as he assumed it meant Bridget and Mark had somehow planned this move together. 

He knew Mark had never fully gotten over Bridget but was having trouble wrapping his head around what he was hearing, until Bridget clarified by stating, “I’m taking a producing job in _Los Angeles_ , evidently Mark is teaching in San Francisco from what Magda’s told me.I only just found out he’s moved.”

“Ah,” said Jeremy, laughing to himself at what he had incorrectly concluded. “You should look him up when you get there. Although California’s almost twice as large as the U.K. You’re both single now, maybe you’ll run into one another. You staying for dinner?” 

——————

As much as Mark enjoyed his profession in London, he felt revitalized in San Francisco and teaching at University.He had often contemplated instructing but the time had somehow never been right.His busy schedule and the travel his profession required didn’t allow for slowing down and his own drive to help the underserved and disenfranchised kept him moving at what now felt like a hundred miles an hour; never taking the time to stop and contemplate what the cost had been to his relationship with Bridget and to a certain extent Camilla.As his wife was in the same profession, albeit minus the heavy travel, she fully understood the lifestyle and seemed to thrive on it, never being able to sit still for very long, always onto the next project around their house or at work, volunteering to take cases that others would pass on, gleaning satisfaction when she seemingly could take the worst of circumstances and end with a positive outcome.He admired her work habits and tenacity to no end, but their careers often precluded them from spending even a normal amount of time together as a married couple, leaving him to wonder if marrying someone in the same field had been the most prudent choice.With their busy lives, the ensuing years had seemed a blur and before either realized, they had celebrated five years of marriage.He’d like to think he was so busy that he never found time to think of Bridget, but it seemed she was never far from his thoughts.When he was alone, she was often on his mind, sneaking unbidden into his consciousness, so much so that he frequently felt guilty, but he could never stop it from happening, no matter what he tried. 

His marriage to Camilla had been a business transaction of sorts, neither of them coming into the union with anything other than a pragmatic view of what each wanted and needed.Mark was taken back when she lashed out at him with such anger over the divorce.She had never been overly emotional, even discussing the end of several of her friend’s marriages in clinical fashion, conveying to him she’d rather be alone herself than remain in a situation that had run its course.He wasn’t vain enough to think she truly loved him; at least not in the fashion that accounted for her ill-natured and vindictive behaviour.It was at one of their last meetings, with both divorce lawyers in attendance, that she gave him a better understanding of her motive, stating he had no right to end their relationship before _she_ was ready for it to end and therefore owed the bulk of his assets to her, including what he had accumulated in the years prior to their meeting.Afterwards, just to be done with the proceedings, he had directed his counsel to give in to her demands and provide whatever she had asked for.He was therefore pleasantly surprised at the final outcome, having only to give her what he thought fair and equitable from their time together.When he inquired what had prompted the change in dispensation, his representative Gavin Johnson had responded by saying, “Mark, if I gave in every time a guilty spouse was ready to capitulate for the sake of peace, I wouldn’t have the reputation I do.Although I will let you take me to dinner as a thank you.”

——————

After settling into life in Southern California and her new job, Bridget began to slowly move herself out of the melancholy she was mired in.She was within walking distance of the beach, renting a small home in Santa Monica.The town was chock full of restaurants, bars, bakeries and small shops that she loved exploring on the weekends, often rising before the sun came up, walking down to the ocean with a cup of strong, hot coffee and strolling along the beach, getting her feet wet while carrying her shoes; until the crowds started to arrive, sending her back home for a quick nap, having never been an early riser.She loved the eco-friendly public transportation and so many of her new neighbors were cordial and helpful, inviting her along to the frequent outdoor music events and art shows. The area was also teeming with young professionals and had an air and vibrancy that had her fondly thinking of the area immediately surrounding her flat in London, only much warmer and sunnier.In the afternoons, a deep, gray sea fog sometimes would roll in, blotting out the sun, turning the air chilly.Instead of depressing her, she actually started to look forward to its quiet softness, watching as it blurred the shadows cast by palm trees and bougainvillea, eventually turning everything monochromatic, somehow calming her thoughts; which unfortunately were repeatedly turning to the month she had spent with Mark. 

She found herself working more than was necessarily required, realizing that if she returned home exhausted, she could fall into a deep sleep and make it through the night.If she did happen to wake, she couldn’t seem to fall back asleep, tossing and turning, her thoughts invariably on her affair.She honestly felt she was having a more difficult time getting over him this go around than when they had split previously.Positive she was only remembering the forbidden and therefore highly charged shagging they had shared, she was caught between immense feelings of guilt followed by an overriding longing to see him again.It didn’t help knowing he was in the same hemisphere and as close as an hour and twenty minute flight.If she kept busy with new friends and work, with exploring the city, she could keep thoughts of him at bay, leaving only the infrequent sleepless night when her mind wouldn’t turn off.

Two months into her work and new home, Magda rang her up to chat, missing having her friend in the same city.After talking for hours, the two had solid plans for Magda and Jeremy to visit for the American Thanksgiving holiday, after which they’d continue on to San Francisco, staying with Mark for several days, before returning to London.Most exciting to Magda was knowing it would be a true holiday for she and Jeremy, with his parents staying with the children, allowing them to enjoy some well-deserved time alone.

Their flight arrived from Heathrow on Saturday at seven in the evening.When Bridget picked them up, they were knackered from the more than eleven hour trip and she took them directly to her home.After quick showers for both, Bridget made fish on the grill for a light dinner.The young woman at the seafood shoppe assured her she could handle the easy recipe and they all went to bed full, barely able to keep their eyes open after the excellent food, wine and catching up they enjoyed.

For the holiday on Thursday, they went out to dinner at a local seafood restaurant, in Marina Del Rey.Because it was Thanksgiving, they had made reservations but still ended up waiting for almost thirty minutes to be seated. It seemed to Bridget that half of Los Angeles went out for the traditional American feast day.She had requested outdoor dining to enjoy the temperate weather and was ecstatic their table had an unobstructed view of the large man-made harbor, filled with thousands of sailing and pleasure boats.The area had once been a massive salt marsh and the remnants could still be seen at the adjacent Ballona Wetlands Reserve.There were also oil rigs visible on their short drive from Santa Monica, left over from the 1930s, when crude had been discovered in the area. According to their local waiter, although they were an eyesore, the residents soon looked right past them, learning to enjoy the other beautiful sights they were surrounded with.

The sun set pink and amber over the ocean, illuminating the outlines of the tall buildings, the light reflecting off the glass, turning everything a soft gold, before finally disappearing completely into the ocean.As twilight turned into night, twinkling lights started appearing on the boats and in the surrounding high rises, creating a soft, magical ambience for their meal. 

While they were eating dessert and enjoying a cappuccino after their dinner, Jeremy’s mobile rang.When he saw it was Mark, he excused himself, letting the girls continue their conversation as he took the call.After several minutes, he returned to the table, catching Magda up on their plans for the flight to San Francisco the next day, letting her know Mark would pick them up at the airport when they arrived. 

Turning to Bridget, he asked, “Why don’t you come with us?I’m sure Mark would love to see you.You’d be back early Sunday, in plenty of time for work on Monday. I’ll call now and let him know.” 

“Yes!Please come,” begged Magda, not ready to part with her friend after only five days together.“Stay until Sunday.Please!”

Maybe because of the wine she’d had with dinner, or because she truly wanted to see Mark, especially with Magda and Jeremy along, she found herself agreeing, excited over the prospect.It had been months since she’d last seen him at her flat, when her mother, Una and his mum had shown up, prompting their ending the affair.In the time since, he had divorced his wife and they’d both started new lives in California; the only thing now holding her back was her own reticence and the final words she had said; that it was over between them.


	7. San Francisco

Mark was waiting for them at the bottom of the escalator once their plane arrived at the airport.He and Jeremy hugged, clapping each other on the back, acting as if they hadn’t seen one another in years instead of just months; their smiles coming from deep inside, full of happiness, spreading to every part of their faces, causing Mark’s dimples to crinkle.

Bridget watched him, knowing he was otherwise engaged, allowing her to gaze freely without being noticed.There had always been something about him, a confidence and ego born of his natural intelligence and wit that often had her muddling her words, even flushing when he was around.Before he turned to next hug Magda, her friend observed Bridget’s stare, leaving her wondering if she may still have feelings for ex-fiancé.

After Magda, he moved to her, bending to kiss her on the cheek.A small lock of hair tumbled in front of her face, just where he was going to place his lips. She heard him speak, barely above a whisper, “Hello, Bridget,” he said and brushed it out of the way with a swift slide of his thumb.Looking into his eyes, she saw deep pools of brown that displayed his soul.His lips touched her face and she felt time stop momentarily, breath catching in her throat, pulse racing.When his mouth left the side of her face, the precise spot of contact seemed to burn and tingle.Blushing, she pulled away, but when she looked back, it was as if a mask had come down, the polite smile still there, but the feelings she thought she observed now hidden behind it.

On the drive to Mark’s, she and Magda sat in the back, all four chatting about their dinner plans for the evening.Mark had reservations at Mr. Jiu’s, a traditional Cantonese restaurant that was one of the city’s finest eateries in the nation’s oldest Chinatown.Since he would be playing tourist along with them, he had asked colleagues for their best sightseeing advice and several had suggested _Beach Blanket Babylon_ , the legendary nightclub revue that had been running in the city, in regularly updated versions, since 1974.They would attend the early matinee with dinner after.For Saturday, Mark threw out options of a tour of Alcatraz and the bay by boat or a limo tour of Napa Valley and the wineries.Bridget deferred to Magda and Jeremy, saying she was along for the ride and would be happy with either of their choices.Since it would get them outside and on the water, they decided on the infamous prison and San Francisco Bay tour, leaving her feeling slightly regretful that she wouldn’t be drinking wine samples all afternoon, but still looking forward to being out of doors all day; as tomorrow’s forecast promised clear skies and sunshine.

Once at Mark’s townhome, he showed them to their rooms.It was a three story attached and had gorgeous views of the steep hills and bay water from the rear of the residence, overlooking a large deck with comfortable furniture and a gas fire pit.Bridget’s room was on the first floor and after she unpacked her clothes and toiletries, she went upstairs to the kitchen, ready to join her friends for a drink.

“Hi,” she said, finding Mark at the refrigerator, pulling out a beer for he and Jeremy and a bottle of chilled Rose’ for Magda.“Can I help with anything?” He seemed very relaxed and for that she was glad, not knowing if it would be awkward between them or not. 

“Yes, if you don’t mind. Would you grab two wine glasses? They’re in the top, right cabinet,” he said, pointing to the one he meant. “Magda and Jeremy are outside on the patio. Bring those and we’ll join them.” He picked up a plate of cheese along with a bowl of crackers and began walking towards the sliding doors. 

“Mark,” Bridget blurted.He stopped and turned to look at her.“Thank you for opening your home to us... to me.I know we left our friendship in a dodgy position,” there it was, she could feel herself blushing red again, “when we last saw one another.”She stopped, not really knowing how to say what she meant, but wanting to acknowledge her feelings to him.

He smiled warmly at her, knowing she was having difficulty articulating what she was trying to say.“Of course.In a selfish way, I will be forever grateful for the month we shared but by the same token you know how deeply regretful I am that I allowed it to happen.”

She started to protest, was going to tell him, yet again, that she felt equally responsible, if not more so, since she had been the one that had asked to go to his room first, but just then Jeremy walked in, oblivious to the conversation he was interrupting, stating, “Magda’s wondering where her wine is.I’ve been sent to retrieve it.”Both of them turned in unison, joining Jeremy as they walked outside to join her.

_________________

  
The taxi dropped them at Club Fugazi, all agreeing that at least Mark could imbibe with them if he didn’t have to drive. The show had a small sliver of a plot and as it was close to the holidays, was naturally trimmed in festive cheer, including twirling human Christmas trees. It focused loosely on the adventures of Snow White, dressed in fairy-tale, Disneyesque style attire with the prerequisite hat that was as large as the woman that wore it, albeit with extra sparkles. The story had the lead looking for a prince. “Available hot dudes are hard to find in San Francisco,” Snow White sadly chirped, earning obvious laughs from all four along with the entire audience. At this joke, Mark leant over to Bridget, whispering, “Although with all the tech workers swamping the city, it’s hardly stereotyped as a fabulous gay haven anymore. I don’t think Tom would recognize the place now.” 

With the help of a fairy godmother of sorts named Glinda, Snow White leapfrogged the globe in search of a man, spending long stretches in Paris and Rome. The trip was dreamlike and the geography incidental to the story.In Rome she ran into Bill and Hillary Clinton.Soon Barack and Michelle Obama entered to a rewritten “Rock Around the Clock.”Nancy Pelosi made an appearance and giving equal time to those on the far side of the political divide, Mitch McConnell, Donald Trump and Michele Bachmann.Coming in and out of the proceedings were a random assortment of cultural figures of the past few decades. In Paris, the heroine frolicked with Coco Chanel and a pack of French poodles. And also, for no apparent reason, Vladimir Putin.Until they heard “Putin’ On the Ritz,” and the dancers started skipping around with giant boxes of crackers on their heads.

More pop figures then flitted through the show, each sent up with saccharine sweetness, all coming from various decades.Although Bridget didn’t recognize every icon, she did recognize Madonna, sporting her famous cone bra from her “Blond Ambition” years, cavorting with Elvis Presley. Kanye and Kim — “No last names needed, I assume,” tittered Magda — all joined in a sing-along with Elton John. Caitlyn Jenner made an appearance and there were references to the television show “Orange Is the New Black.”

The performance seemed to feed on the exuberance of the vocal audience that was probably, like the four of them, mostly from other locales but still included plenty of locals.Mark commented on this when he read from the show’s program, “It says here that Michael Tilson Thomas, the music director from the San Francisco Symphony, likes to see the show at least once a year.”

Exiting the theatre, after a standing ovation from the well entertained audience, Jeremy commented, “The show appears to be updated more often than my smartphone software.It’s amazing all the current events and references they made.”

On the way to their dinner reservation, Magda gushed about the revue, which pleased Mark, knowing his choice of entertainment had been a hit. 

“The gargantuan hairpieces and hats of a size that would topple your average Ziegfeld girl back in the day were spot on! I know the gags are rather obvious, but the pièce de résistance was that hat of the skyline of San Francisco.The Statue of Liberty had a pretty nice bit of headgear herself, but when compared with the cityscape, it looked like a children’s tiara.”

“I didn’t even notice the actors show any neck strain on their faces.I presume they see massage therapists or chiropractors as needed though,” laughed Bridget, thinking how much her shoulders ached from just watching them for an hour and a half.

After a short taxi ride, they were dropped at the entrance of their dinner venue, Mr. Jiu’s, which had recently been relocated to the alley at the building’s rear. They walked in, still chatting about the show, finding themselves in a dim bar, with bottles arranged on a long midcentury-modern console and shelves framed in trendy squares and rectangles. Walking past the bar, they advanced through darkness, eventually arriving back out into the light: a early evening, sun-dappled dining room that felt like a pocket of time between past and present. Low Danish Modern chairs lined a stylish, L-shaped banquette and surrounded the round dining tables with built-in lazy Susans. Three gold lotus chandeliers, restored from the Four Seas decor, hung overhead, lending an understated elegance.Once they were seated, their table had a view through a back wall of windows, opening up their own cityscape. Beyond Grant Avenue’s electric urban scene, it offered them a straight shot down Commercial Street, past low buildings painted in pastel colors, then looked up to the soaring Transamerica Pyramid. It was a clear evening and the Ferry Building clock tower was just lighting up, beyond it the fading sky above San Francisco Bay. It wasn’t a landscape that moved them above it all but more a view that put diners into the thick of a gritty metropolitan area, to scenes that were eternal and fleeting. 

“Mark, have you dined here before?” asked Magda, as she sat at their table, gazing towards the view.

“Never,” he responded.“I’ll have to thank my co-workers for the suggestion of this location, the play and if the food’s as good as the view, I’d say we’re three for three.”

The dinner was better than they anticipated and outshone the view, leaving them all very full and content.As the cheque was delivered, the waitress also left them several wrapped fortune cookies, explaining that they were made in-house daily. 

Finishing their glasses of wine, Jeremy went first and chose a cookie as he explained to the group, “My family and I always add “in bed” after we read our slip of paper.It doesn’t matter how innocuous, that phrase can make anything dirty.”

With that, he started by busting it open, taking a small bite of the crunchy biscuit and stating, “When sex, science and dine-in collide: ‘Constant grinding can turn an iron rod into a needle’... in bed.”At which they all burst into laughter, none more so than Magda, giving her husband a half-arsed glance for suggesting this game after such a nice dinner. 

Looking to his wife, Jeremy raised his eyebrows, prompting her to pick up a cookie and with a good natured grin unwrap it, reading out loud, “Why not treat yourself to a good time instead of waiting for someone else to do it... in bed.”Everyone’s eyes went wide, wondering how Magda would react.Bridget almost couldn’t contain herself from laughing at the look on her friend’s face.All of them finally breaking up when she finished with, “Well, that was a message I never knew I needed,” in total seriousness, before leaning over to kiss Jeremy’s cheek, grin in place at his flabbergasted look.

“Mark, your turn,” Magda said, handing him the next biscuit. 

His face inscrutable, he took the cello off, then broke it open, reading to himself before clearing his throat, saying out loud, “I don’t know if I should be excited or afraid. ‘Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind.’”He stopped there, prompting the other three to say as one, “In bed!”Bridget looked over at him but he wouldn’t meet her eyes, laughing under his breath at the very suggestive missive.

Finally, it was Bridget’s turn.Picking up the last crescent shaped cookie, she unceremoniously ripped off the plastic.After reading the tiny slip of paper, she joked out loud, “Knew this all along, but it is nice to get validation from a cookie.‘Your tongue is your ambassador...’ in bed.”Even though she had said it with straight-faced conviction, she could feel the slow creep of a blush moving up her chest and neck, breaking out in laughter when Mark almost choked on his last sip of wine, coughing as the liquid inadvertently went down the wrong pipe, causing his eyes to water and Jeremy to lean over and jokingly pat him on the back, asking, “You all right there?”As the laughter at the table subsided, Mark surreptitiously glanced over to Bridget, quickly looking away when she gave him a soft, knowing smile.

_________________

  
Once back at his townhome, Mark poured them each a glass of cab as a nightcap while they chatted about the day spent in good company; sitting outside on the patio in the cool, night air. Until Magda’s loud yawn prompted she and Jeremy to excuse themselves for bed. When she stood to leave, he quickly steadied her so she wouldn’t fall back on the couch; putting his arm around her shoulders, leading her slowly towards their room. He shot Mark and Bridget an apologetic look over his shoulder, just prior to closing the door, as they heard him telling her to be careful. 

As if on cue, Mark, always the gentleman, told her, “Here, let me help you downstairs.Would hate to see you get hurt navigating the steps on your first night.”He then preceded her down, while she kept her right hand on his shoulder for balance at his suggestion, both laughing when she still managed to stumble, almost causing them to trip the last few steps, except for Mark’s catching the handrail in the nick of time.

“There you are, safe and sound.Can you think of anything you need before I head to bed?” he asked, bending to give her a friendly good-night kiss on the cheek. 

She was positive that he meant it in the most innocent way, especially as he had just as much to drink as she, but the mental image of what immediately popped into her mind caused her to turn swiftly away, sure he could read her thoughts and would see her face light up at the direction her mind headed; picturing his body next to her in the bed only a few feet away, her lips traveling across his stomach, moving lower, her tongue exploring, his hands running through her hair.

“Good night, Bridget,” she heard him murmur and before she even looked back in his direction, she could hear his footfalls on the wooden stairs, fading as he ascended quickly.


	8. Frustration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short and exasperating chapter.

Mark ran up the stairs as fast as he dared, without seeming like he was actually running. Running from Bridget; from his desire for her and definitely from his emotions. Why did everything she say seem to be meant as an enticement to him? How could he have asked her if she _needed_ anything before he went to bed? What was he thinking? She must believe him an idiot. And her fortune cookie message. He thought he would choke when she read it out loud, his mind immediately having lurid and graphic flashbacks of the last night he had spent at her flat. Was there something wrong with him, when all he could now seem to focus on was kissing her... and more. Maybe he shouldn’t have solicited Jeremy’s help in asking her to come visit with he and Magda; after all, she had made her feelings known at their last meeting.

He also couldn’t divulge to either about their affair, not after Jeremy’s past indiscretions with several women; remembering how he had let his friend know that he didn’t approve of his less than admirable behaviour where his wife and marriage vows were concerned. And now, he had exhibited precisely the same abhorrent conduct. But they knew nothing of his affair, possibly thinking there could be a rekindling of he and Bridget’s past romance now that both were unattached.

If Magda suspected that her friend Bridget was the “other woman” responsible for the end of Mark’s marriage, he shuddered to think what that may do to their friendship, the hardships it could cause.Bridget had been there for her when Jeremy had cheated, always helping her keep it together, being supportive of any decision she made; whether she stayed with her unfaithful husband or chose to leave due to his infidelity.But privately she had let him know on more than one occasion how devastated Magda was, how Bridget had lost all respect for Jeremy for putting her friend through such a shattering and emotional roller coaster. 

Once in his room, he immediately went to the shower, turning the water as cold as he could possibly tolerate, jumping in and almost yelling out loud when the frigid spray hit his body, effectively quelling any passion that Bridget had stirred.

After he was back in bed and on the precipice of sleep, he heard a soft knocking.Before he could answer, the door slowly moved open, the dim hall light silhouetting Bridget from behind as she entered, coming straight to his bed.Not speaking, she climbed in beside him, running her fingers down his chest, to his stomach and lower, caressing him while simultaneously kissing his neck, her lips moving up his face to his mouth, pulling lightly on his lower lip, causing him to moan out loud, before she looked into his eyes, seeing how much he wanted her, smiling at him in understanding.She innately knew his desires and the smooth touch of her, poised above him, just the right amount of softness and tension, caused him to close his eyes in anticipation. She whispered his name as their bodies touched, slowly entwining, fusing into one with their movement. His tongue began to move over every inch of her, carving like a chisel, their kisses long and deep, arms and legs tangled. 

He focused his eyes once more, to see her in the dim light. Only she wasn’t there; she’d never been beside him.He had been drowsing.It took him a minute to fully realize this, so intense was the memory.His breathing was gradually returning to normal, but he was having to concentrate to accomplish its slowing.He lay there for what seemed like an hour, his mind not letting go of what he had thought real.Finally acquiescing, his reached beneath the sheets, needing and enjoying the salutary effects of his actions.

Two floors below, Bridget carefully stepped out of a very icy shower, shivering as she toweled herself off; hoping that she’d now be able to get some rest, that her thoughts of she and Mark twisted in bedsheets would effectively be banished for the night.Unfortunately, it was several long hours before her mind turned off, allowing her to finally fall asleep, only to be plagued in her slumber by continuous dreams, leaving her feeling very tired; eventually giving up and taking a second chilled shower, hoping it would get her through the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This idea came from the bathtub scene in “And When Did You Last See Your Father?” (For some reason it won’t let me italicize the movie title)


	9. Exploring

The next morning, Bridget was the first one awake, rising before the sun had even made an appearance, the damp, foggy mist floating like a ghost outside her window, visible against the light from the streetlamp.After her very brisk shower, she went upstairs to the kitchen and made a pot of coffee, trying to be as quiet as she could.The house was large, she guessed close to 350 square meters, so even though Magda and Jeremy’s bedroom was on the same floor, it was far enough from the kitchen, allowing her to explore the drawers and cabinets, looking for an insulated cup to take outside, without waking her friends.

“Good morning,” she heard Mark’s still sleep-scratchy voice from behind.

Jumping, she turned to face him, exclaiming, “Mark!You startled me.” 

Laughing, he apologized, asking, “Why are you up before daybreak?I didn’t realize you’d become an early riser.”

“Couldn’t sleep.Not sure why as the bed’s very comfortable.” _Oh God, did she really just say that?_ “What about you? This is early even by your standards.”

He felt himself flushing, recalling his vivid dream, moving quickly, walking to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup.Turning to glance over his shoulder, he changed the subject and asked, “Are you hungry?I can make us something to eat if you’d like?” 

“Famished, actually.What did you have in mind?I’d love to see the sun rise first though, since I managed to pull myself out of a perfectly good dream.”

Not sure where the thought originated, he suddenly came out with, “I’ve an idea.Are you up for a walk?”

At her nod yes, he continued, “There’s a great breakfast place that overlooks the ocean.We caneat after watching the sun rise over the cliffs.”

A walk sounded perfect, especially if it included breakfast and views of the Pacific.“What about Jeremy and Magda though?”

“We’ll be back before they stir.And I’ll leave them a note, just in case.Would hate for them to think we’ve gone off exploring and won’t return.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at his enthusiasm.“Since when did you become so spontaneous?”

“About the same time you became a morning person,” he returned with a chuckle.“You may want to put on some dungarees, trainers and bring a Mac, if you have one,” he advised, knowing the air could be damp and chilly near the water.“I have an extra if needed.”

_____________

As they drove the 20 minutes from Mark’s flat, he explained, “Land’s End’s on the northwest corner of the peninsula.It’s very popular with hikers and tourists, has picturesque views, rugged beauty and an incredible opportunity to see marine wildlife. If you’re up to it, there’s a mostly flat section of the California Coastal Trail that will take us through native seaside landscape with stunning views of the Marin Headlands and the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“I’m up to whatever you suggest. You’re the tour guide today.”

They exited the parking lot to find a path leading gently up a hillside through windblown and gnarled cypress trees, aromatic coastal sage, native yellow monkeyflower, coyote brush and yarrow. The coastline in fall and winter experience the highest occurrence of northeasterly winds that blow from land out to sea. The winds descend from the high elevations of the coastal ranges, then flow down, hugging the mountain slopes, toward the Pacific, pulled by the continual force of gravity. When the air is mild at the top of the mountains, it can be warm and bone dry by the time it arrives at the beaches below due to compressional heating, keeping the marine layer out to sea and the skies sparkling clear and haze-free. 

The Bay Area, and San Francisco in particular, is susceptible to fog given its proximity to the cold, ocean waters. The air is extremely damp in the marine layer, close to the surface of the water, and moisture turns into foggy condensation. Since the temperature over land is often warmer than the air over water, a circulation sets up that pushes the fog inland, especially in summer. But at this time of year, there were often days such as this; cloud free once the sun had devoured the early morning fog, overhead a cotton-candy pink sky swirled with purples and oranges starting to show as night began to give way to dawn, providing enough light to see the well marked path.

Walking briskly, they passed a woman in a hat on the side of a steep hill singing opera to herself, then crossed through a field of daisies. Bridget was having to quicken her steps to keep up with Mark’s longer stride, but was enjoying the invigorating pace he set. They went by an older man in a wheelchair, his wife pushing him slowly along as they enjoyed the view and watched them trek past, then they dove down into a new trail, enveloped in greenery, Mark grabbing her hand when she slipped, helping her catch her balance, making sure she was all right, before moving on once again, letting her hand go after several minutes. 

Finally — Bridget now limping, Mark fine — they arrived at the payoff, the best view of the Golden Gate Bridge, not from below the steel structure, as thousands of tourists take in the view; but taken in context, launching out of the stretch of verdant and green Marin Headlands, soaring preposterously red across the Bay, then plunging down into the city.

Bridget’s breath caught in her throat as she took in the sight.“Mark,” she said, a little breathless from the trek, “it’s absolutely stunning,” their faces to the salty wind as they both looked below, spotting dark, rough sided boulders covered with mussel colonies, tumbling surf, and the contrast of the famous bright red bridge just beyond.

Standing close, he took her shoulders, gently turning her so they could look in the other direction, seeing jagged cliffs that rivaled Big Sur’s beauty.He spoke from behind her, his voice carrying over the breeze, as they took in the magnificent scene; ocean and cliffs meeting, the sun’s light illuminating the vista before them.

“San Francisco has a love-hate relationship with its persistent fog, which tends to run the gamut between extraordinarily beautiful and annoyingly damp.I haven’t been here too long, but my colleagues tell me that clear days like this are much more likely in the fall or winter,” he paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, “I’m glad we got to see this together.And I _am_ glad you came to visit,” his words soft, sounding almost like poetry to her.

“Thank you, Mark.I am too,” she smiled back at him, feeling as close as she had since they’d last seen one another in London.

“Come on,” he said, “breakfast is calling,” and he started up the path once more, thinking how glad he was that he’d suggested the walk.Just before Louis’ Restaurant, they passed by some ruins that looked like a rough collection of pools of salt water, crumbling walls and rusting pieces of iron. The setting was at the end of the Land's End cliffs, looking out over Seal Rock and the ocean, offering a gorgeous view of the Pacific. 

“Mark, what’s that?” asked a baffled Bridget, stopping to try and make some sense of the old construction.

“I’m not sure.Maybe someone at the restaurant can tell us,” he replied, just as puzzled as she. 

They were seated within minutes of arrival and after both washing up, were given menus by the young waitress, told the specials and left to figure out their order.Their booth sat behind massive windows facing out toward one of the best views on earth and they read the menu quietly, after having their coffees delivered; the waitress explaining that Louis’ was committed to sustainable and local produce and baked goods, vegetarian-fed beef, and cage-free eggs from nearby producers.

While sitting in the comfortable booth, they continued to chat amicably about their hike and the views, both duly impressed by the vistas they’d taken in.Bridget had ordered the Spanish Omelette, and when it was set in front of her, said, “Never having been to Spain, I can't really speak to the validity of how authentic this is, but it’s like the cook bought one of everything from the greengrocers and threw it in. Well, maybe not everything, but there’s a lot in here; potato, tomato, mushroom, onion, carrot, spinach.”

Mark watched her with wide eyes, observing, “There’s barely enough egg to hold it all together.If you can eat all that, I’m afraid I may have to carry you to the car on my back.”

After taking a bite of her breakfast, she said, “It’s so good!Even the eggs come from happy chickens!” she laughed, watching him tear into his over-easy eggs with wheat toast.

Reaching over to the side plate of his bacon, she took a piece, saying, “If it weren’t for bacon, I could have envisaged being a vegetarian,” before taking a bite, the perfectly crisp and salty pork like a flavour bomb in her mouth, its greasiness perfection to her.

Once they were done, Bridget having eaten almost every bite to Mark’s surprise, they asked the cashier about the ruins on their way out.

Laughing, she told them, “Almost every tourist wants to know what they are.Adolph Sutro, a very wealthy San Francisco resident and former mayor, once owned most of the land in the western half of the city. One of his grandest projects was the construction of a glass-roofed structure containing seven salt water swimming pools, fed by the tides at the entrance to San Francisco Bay, opening in 1890.Visitors could also view the huge collection of odd specimens he had picked up in his travels, including Egyptian mummies, stuffed apes, polar bears and even totem poles. There was a train track and train service built to bring visitors out. The tracks are long gone now, but used to run along the Lands End trail.Long story short, it wasn’t a money maker, they eventually closed in 1966 and it burned down the same year.”

Thanking her for the information, they walked much slower back to the car than when they had started, both very full from their meal.The pathway back was paved entirely and she almost asked Mark if he’d get the car and bring it back for her, but thought better of it when she remembered just how much of her breakfast she’d eaten, thinking the trek would do her good.

It was still earlier than 8AM and Mark drove through the city on the way back, even taking her down the famous Lombard Street curves, eliciting this comment from Bridget, “The whole trip was less than two minutes, so fast I didn’t even have time to yell: ‘I feel carsick.’" He then parked nearby so they could walk the steps and truly enjoy the views the high peak afforded.

As they ascended the steep hill to the top, Mark said, “For a behavioral scientist, Lombard Street would be the perfect place to study scatterbrained tourist behavior. They could take notes as distracted amateur photographers block traffic, stop pedestrians, and even impede the local parrot flock flying overhead, all while trying to capture a selfie.”

Laughing, Bridget joined in, “The scientist's assistants could tally the tourist portraits that are photo-bombed, on purpose or by accident. And biology grad students could analyze whether daily close encounters with automobile bumpers make the colorful side-of-road flowers feel paranoid.”

Once at the summit, they turned around for a view that encompassed half the city and the multi-million-dollar homes lining the street. Pointing to the colorful scuffs on the concrete wall, Mark said, “It looks like the cars transfer enough paint from their vehicles every year to coat the entire Golden Gate Bridge.”

As they returned to the car, Mark said to Bridget, “The street scenes of homelessness and the fact that I walk past them — people are in pain on the sidewalk as I go to work, or for coffee — is horrific.The sidewalks are where the inequality really plays out, where a casual observer sees the disparity. They’re where the homeless camp out and local residents have installed boulders to block them and start-ups have dropped what seems like hundreds of scooters overnight. Part of what makes me angry is the way the imbalance isolates us from each other. I lived in Johannesburg very briefly after university and this place now reminds me of that. Private security is on the rise and there are guards outside the grocers I frequent and even the sushi restaurant. My colleagues that have been here for years are decrying the state of their beloved city.It does lend a real world scenario to my students, who are often from places that haven’t seen this prior.”

“I never knew you lived in South Africa!Why didn’t I know that?” she said in surprise. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to end our morning exploration on such a dour note. Let’s head back and then I can show you the uplifting prison of Alcatraz!” he said laughing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for delay in getting a chapter out. In U.S. and was monitoring the election a little too much.


	10. The Rock

They drove the short distance back to Mark’s, Bridget commenting on the steep hills they traversed, showing peek-a-boo glimpses of the water, then plunging quickly down; Mark laughing at her when she threw her hands up in the air as if on a rollercoaster at the fair.Once at Mark’s, they went up the stairs with Bridget leading the way, he directly behind. Turning, she looked back at him as they entered the kitchen, laughing quietly at something he’d said.They were both whispering, keeping their voices low, not knowing if Magda and Jeremy were up and about yet, as it was still before 9AM.

Rounding the corner into the kitchen, giggling like school kids, they came face to face with Magda sitting at the counter in a fluffy pink robe, drinking a cup of coffee.She looked at them, a smile breaking across her face at their laughter, before asking, “And where have you two been??Your note was very cryptic and Jeremy’s ready to call the police.”She laughed as she said this; so they both knew she was teasing them.Just then Jeremy walked out of the bedroom, hair still damp from a shower. 

“Told you they’d show back up,” he said to Magda, bending to kiss her lightly on the lips, wrapping his arms around her in an enveloping hug.“My best mate Mark promised to show us a prison today and I knew he wouldn’t let us down.What barrister doesn’t love a good penal institution?”he laughed, moving over to pour himself a cup of black coffee.

“So, where _were_ you?” Magda reiterated, giving Bridget a knowing look, or at least it seemed that way to her. Bridget had spent a very enjoyable morning with Mark, from the views of the coast, then breakfast and their talk about the homelessness that seemed to be so prevalent in the city; even learning that he’d spent four months in Johannesburg immediately after graduation as part of a volunteer assignment to help train young black lawyers who didn’t have the same access to education as their white counterparts. In all their years together she didn’t know this about him and it touched her that he had been so idealistic when newly graduated. He had explained to her that the course aimed to build confidence, redress the skills deficit and give the new lawyers the tools necessary to advocate effectively for poor and vulnerable South Africans across a variety of different courts and jurisdictions.

Mark answered for her, “Went for a hike and breakfast.”He was gulping down a cold glass of water and offered one to Bridget.“We were both up early and didn’t think you’d miss us.What time do you want to head out for the cruise?We can park at the Ferry Building and take public transport to Pier 33, near Fisherman’s Wharf.And Bridget, Magda, please wear sunscreen.There won’t be a cloud in the sky today and I don’t want either of you having sunburn,” he had walked to the loo and returned with a bottle of lotion for each.Taking it from him, Magda read the label.Seeing the SPF number of 100, she then complained out loud that she’d never be able to get a true California tan with protectant on.The admonishing look she got from her husband and Mark made her reconsider her answer, until she saw Bridget rolling her eyes behind their backs, shaking her head “no” in defiance of their advice.

After showering and changing for their boat trip, Bridget went back upstairs to join the others. 

“All ready?” Mark asked as she entered the kitchen, before continuing, “Just waiting on Jeremy and Magda and we can go.” She wore khakis, trainers, a sleeveless top and carried a light jacket in her arms along with a worn baseball cap. 

“Yes!Looking forward to riding on a boat.I hope the weather stays warm.”The forecast was high sixties and sunny.

“Did you put the sunscreen on?” he asked, squinting his eyes knowingly at her, remembering how stubborn she could be. Laughing, she tried to change the subject, asking what they were doing for dinner. 

“I thought of grilling steaks with jacket potatoes and red wine.Now, did you put your lotion on?”He wasn’t going to be sidetracked by her obvious tactic, laughing at her when she had the wherewithal to flush at his direct inquiry.

“Mark, it’s not even going to get out of the sixties and I want to get some color,” she pleaded, giving her most beguiling smile. 

“Bridget, give me the lotion.”He held his hand out as she dug through her bag to find it. Begrudgingly, she gave it to him, turning her back and asking for his assistance.Feeling his hands on her arms as he ran slowly up and down, making sure to cover all exposed skin, moving to her shoulders and finally the back of her neck, pulling her hair off to one side to keep it out of his way, almost caused her to sigh out loud, thinking how pleasurable it felt.He stepped closer, softly saying her name into her ear, his voice hesitant, as he lowered his head towards her neck, wanting to kiss it so very badly, to feel her skin against his lips.

“Are we ready?”Jeremy’s voice cut through their intimate scene, as he came into the kitchen, followed closely by Magda, carrying jackets and a large handbag.They broke apart quickly, Mark moving toward the loo while Bridget tried to return her expression and thoughts to normal.

Once in the restroom, Mark stood at the mirror, seeing his flushed face, before bending to splash cold water on his cheeks to alleviate his pulse from racing.Gathering his emotions, he walked out and rejoined his friends, asking, “Who’s ready for a cheerful prison tour?”

Just as he’d forecast, the temperature was in the high 60s and the water reflected a cloudless sky, sunlight bouncing off the waves, making everything seem brighter.

Setting out on the ferry towards the island, Bridget and Magda were able to set aside the feeling that touring an old prison was somehow creepy and morbid. Both knew Mark and Jeremy were actually looking forward to learning the prison’s history and the view from the boat was incredible. Approaching, the prison stood large and triumphant on the small spit of rock in front of them, while the famous Golden Gate Bridge towered over the glittering water to their left, looking just as imposing from the boat as it had this morning from their vantage point at Land’s End.

They arrived to an even bigger and more chaotic crowd than the one they had just left at the dock in San Francisco. A park ranger stood in front of the throng brusquely shouting out orders:

“The climb is LONG,” she warned. “It is dangerous and very steep. If you have any health problems, be extra careful. And PLEASE watch your step!”

From the way she was making it sound, Bridget wondered if she could just turn around and take the next ferry leaving the island.

Once at the top, Magda noted, “I was dreading the ascent up the hill, but it really is NOT as bad as the park ranger made it sound.”She said this while breathlessly holding onto Jeremy’s hand, as he had helped by pulling her along. They walked past appealing plant and animal life as they continued their trek; the views of the bay were spectacular and even Jeremy stopped to take several selfies with his wife, then had Mark and Bridget pose together with the soaring red bridge in the background. 

Filing into the cool, dark prison building a park employee handed each of them a headset and a controller to listen to the audio tour that was included in the admission price. Now it was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, telling Bridget quietly so only she could hear, “I dislike tours, and I especially dislike audio tours.”

But he seemed to be pleasantly surprised. The stories were riveting. The audio tour included interviews with people who had actually been incarcerated at Alcatraz, going to great lengths to bring visitors back to the actual scenes, with ambient noise underneath the voices of the convicts telling you what they saw, haunting at times as these voices from the past divulged their darkest fears.While Alcatraz is most famous for its time as a federal penitentiary for the country’s most hardened criminals, they learned that it had been much more; being first used as a military garrison from the 1850s through the 1930s, and then as home to the West Coast’s first lighthouse, built in 1854. Alcatraz Island was used as a site for a federal prison for only 29 years, ending in 1963. After the prison was shut down, American Indians from San Francisco inhabited it for about 19 months to protest federal policies, setting Mark off on a tangent about the plight of the indigenous group. The island was now managed by the National Park Service and is designated as a National Historic Landmark. Despite its rich history, Alcatraz is most known for the brief span of time it was used as a maximum-security federal prison housing some of the United State’s most hardened criminals, such as Al Capone.

As usual, Bridget got lost, with Mark walking alongside her as they were separated from the small group they were part of, including Magda and Jeremy; the audio track telling them where to turn, where to look, and then narrating. Somehow she made a wrong turn, and while the narrator was telling them about the recreation yard and the games the prisoners played, they found themselves looking at an exhibit about murderers who turned their lives around.The most moving part of the exhibit was a section which read “Life After Murder,” where visitors could write their response to the exhibit on a sticky note and post it on the wall.She didn’t write anything, but they both read almost all the memos. 

“I think the most striking note is that one,” said Mark, pointing at a message that appeared to be written in a child’s handwriting. “It doesn’t state an opinion or rail against the justice system, nor make a philosophic presumption about the nature of forgiveness. It simply asks, ‘Why so much BAD in this world?’”

Nodding her head in agreement, Bridget simply stated, “Kid, I think we all wonder the same thing,” continuing with, “Throughout the entire tour so far, I can’t shake the thought that this isn’t just a tourist attraction, that while we’re here laughing, taking pictures, and walking around freely on this sunny, beautiful day, people were imprisoned here, waited out years of their lives hoping to escape. Mark, people _died_ here.” She was visibly shaken and walking over, he pulled her into a warm embrace, running his hands over her shoulders, offering sympathetic words into her hair.

Just then other visitors walked in on their private moment, talking loudly and laughing amongst themselves.Mark reluctantly let her go, standing back to make room in the small space as others crowded in.Walking through the dank corridors, they spotted their friends ahead, rejoining them as the audio tour took them next past the cells used for solitary confinement, where disruptive prisoners were penalized by being forced to stay in pitch black rooms, seeing the light of day only once a week for showers and exercise. In their headphones, a prisoner told them of a game he would play to pass the time while in isolation; tearing a button off his clothes, throwing it up in the air, and then hunting for it in the never ending darkness. Once finding it, he would toss it and begin the pursuit all over again.

The narrator invited them to step inside one of the cells; and while Mark and Jeremy stood behind the closed metal door, she and Magda opted not to, finding it a little too creepy for their liking.

“I wonder if anyone actually escaped?” Jeremy asked out loud.

A few minutes later, the taped guide divulged that the widely-accepted answer was no. However, there were five people who had tried to but were never accounted for. Three of them were involved in the same complicated escape plan, in which they fabricated lifelike heads to leave in their beds and fool the guards, then used spoons to chisel an opening in the wall, climbed up the pipes to the roof, boarded an improvised raft, and were never seen again. Magda recalled watching a film about the attempted escape years ago, starring Clint Eastwood.

“There wasn’t a day that went by that we didn’t know what the hell we were missing,” the audio narrator told them all.Alcatraz’s location made it the perfect prison, the frigid waters and steep cliffs were huge obstacles to escaping.

“Something I never thought about is the torture inflicted on each inmate since they were able to see beautiful San Francisco just 1.5 miles away, separated only by water,” Magda said.“In the audio, a prisoner mentioned that on New Year’s Eve, they could all hear the laughter and music coming from people partying on the boats anchored in the water just outside their prison cells.It’s really very sad.”

“Whoa,” said her husband. “Don’t forget that every prisoner was here for a reason!”

The trip back on the boat was a little more subdued than the one over, all four of them tired after a long day of walking and exploring,especially Bridget and Mark since they had both been up very early that morning.When they arrived at Mark’s, Bridget and Magda agreed that a quick nap was what they both needed, with Jeremy looking to Mark, agreeing, “If you can’t beat ‘em, I think I’ll join ‘em.See you in an hour to help with dinner, mate.”


	11. Dinner In

Mark already had potatoes baking in the oven, mushrooms cleaned, sliced and ready to sauté and the steaks were getting to room temperature when Bridget made an appearance in the kitchen, after her restorative nap.

Upon seeing him, she said, “Hi.What can I do to-”

“No!” he laughed. “Everything’s under control. How was your nap? Did you get some good rest?”

“Yes, thank you. I feel ready for a big dinner now. After our hike and then the afternoon at Alcatraz, I was knackered. I’m only afraid if I didn’t have a lie down, I’d be out after one wine.”

“Good, then pour yourself a glass, there’s red or white, and please join Magda and Jeremy outside.”He was clearly thinking of her lack of skills in the kitchen.“There are some snacks outside and I’ll join you in a few moments to start the grill.”

After thoroughly enjoying a dinner that started with a Caeser Salad and included mushrooms sautéed in a cream sauce (prepared by Magda), steaks and crispy skinned jacket potatoes with warm butter, they were all extremely full as they helped Mark with the cleaning up; washing the dishes and putting everything away, Bridget doing the bulk of the work, laughing while telling the others it was the least she could do since her culinary skills were lacking.Once they were done and the kitchen in pristine condition, they took their glasses of wine along with a newly opened bottle of cab from nearby Napa Valley, making their way back outside to enjoy the cool weather and beautiful nighttime views of the rolling hills; homes brightly lit while people went about their evening rituals as full darkness made the city seem somehow smaller, more intimate and the bay water glistened in the distance, reflecting the light from the moon.Mark proceeded to start the gas fire-pit, watching it flame to life as they all sat in the comfortable outdoor furniture, relaxing around the warmth it emanated, listening to classic rock from a local station playing through the outdoor speakers.

“What brought you to America, and specifically San Francisco?,” Magda asked him, taking a sip of her wine.

“I’d been intrigued by San Francisco my whole life, and had visited several times for business but never for more than a few days. I had some nebulous and changing ideas about the sort of city it was with hills, earthquakes and technology companies, but on arrival found something more diverse and complicated. Turns out, I’d neglected to consider what a creative place it is.In London, it seems I was consumed with work.I’m sure it has something to do with teaching and working at a university, but it seems San Francisco preserves the arts as a cultural legacy more than I’d expected. The act of everyday inspiration, of creativity shown here has been a pleasure to me.I’ve made time for museums, concerts and theater more than I ever managed back home.”

Bridget was pleasantly surprised at his answer, seeing a side of him that she didn’t realize existed, at least not to the degree he now alluded to.“Mark, how do you enjoy teaching so far?”, she asked, truly interested in what drew him to this new venture.

“I’m liking it more than I imagined.Obviously it’s night and day from the casework and court appearances that I dealt with.And I’ve only been at it a very short time, but the change of scenery and challenge of keeping upwards of a hundred young people interested in a long lecture is enough to give me gray hair.It helps that as representatives of the Berkeley based NGO, Human Rights Counsel, the students have the chance to present cases to them at its headquarters in Geneva, Switzerland, or to the Commission on the Status of Women in New York. They also work on briefs detailing international law standards to U.S. courts and represent individual clients before the Inter-American Commission on Human Rights.So while it’s not working on my own cases, there’s certainly plenty to keep me busy.”

“I thought I noticed more gray,” sympathized Jeremy.“If you’d stayed in London, you’d only be dealing with the usual genocide, massacres or atrocities that came your way daily in Chambers.”

Laughing, Mark continued, “There’s also a persistent hopefulness that stands out even in the midst of tough times here. New things are always being created.I love the many spots around the city where you can climb to a higher altitude and clear your head from the stress and noise. It’s very different in that respect to London also.Two of my favorite spots are Telegraph Hill and Twin Peaks. If you sit on top of the stone barrier designed to keep tourists safe, you can feel completely alone and relaxed.I visited Dolores Park recently on a 75-degree day and the weather brought the crowds out. There must have been a thousand people drinking wine, chatting with friends, and blasting music. There was a couple, seemingly unaware of the crowd and noise around them, lying quietly in the grass. At first I thought they were thinking of somewhere far away, but they were probably just enjoying the moment: partaking in the sound of laughter, conversation, and music; the cadence of the city.”

“How do you like LA so far?,” Mark asked her in return, deflecting the attention from himself.

“Not to get too analytical, but in Los Angeles the art of seeing is so easy to practice. I think it has something to do with the western light. Instead of a Golden Hour, like in photography, there seem to be golden days. I sometimes wonder if locals are troubled by the fact that they can’t stop their busy lives in order to deal with the constant, extraordinary environment. Or worse, if it loses its strength over time.Maybe because I’m used to London, I appreciate it because it’s so different?At dusk, the sun leaves the city like it’s being dragged against its will, unable to let go until the very last second, slipping into a bank of low clouds or, on a clear day, over the edge of the Pacific.”

Magda turned to Jeremy, saying, “So, are you ready to move yet?We could live in Santa Barbara and be halfway between Bridge in LA and Mark here!”

After a half hour more of enjoyable conversation, Magda nudged Jeremy, telling him, “Let’s go to bed, I’m exhausted.” 

“I’m fine,” he replied, until she poked him in the side, whispering, “Come on, let’s leave them alone to talk,” letting him know that she wasn’t really tired but was more attuned to their friends than he was.Making their excuses, they got up and left for their room, to not a lot of pushback from either Bridget or Mark.

“How’s your writing been going?” Maybe because he was a little pissed from the wine, he continued, asking her, “Was that the only reason you moved to Los Angeles?”

Not replying immediately, Bridget thought how best to answer his very direct inquiry.He was newly divorced and as much as she wanted to again enjoy the closeness they’d briefly shared, she was leery of the timing.His separation was still fresh and he had obviously moved out of the country and far away from her, or was it from Camilla?She responded by telling him, “It wasn’t the only reason, but you know how much I dreamt of this.If I was ever going to try it, now’s the time.I’m certainly not getting any younger.” Emboldened by his forthright question, she threw back at him, “Why did you move out of the country?You could have taught much closer to home, to your parents.Was it due to the end of your marriage?It wasn’t anything to do with me, was it?”

“If I never spoke to you again, you’d still be the end of my marriage.”

Not at all comfortable with his answer due to her guilty conscience, she asked, “Then why did you leave London?”

“I needed to put as much space between us as I possibly could, try to move on from you one more time. Would you have been willing to see me if I were newly divorced?”His question caught her off guard.He wasn’t usually this forthcoming with his emotions.

“No. I would have said I believed you needed to try and work it out with your wife.”It was the truth; she honestly didn’t want to be the cause of his split.

Changing the subject abruptly, he stated, “You’re cold”, as she shivered and wrapped her arms around herself.“Come and sit here, closer to the heat.” 

“Here” was next to him on the sofa, but much closer to the flame than the chair she now sat in. 

“I won’t bite, I promise,” he said quietly, as if reading her mind. 

_But what if that’s what I want!_ she heard herself silently scream.

Standing, she walked the short distance between them, sitting down as he moved slightly over, enough so they wouldn’t inadvertently touch, giving her plenty of room to get comfortable.

“Better?” he asked, as the warmth emanated from the fire and she put her hands out to warm them.

“Much, thank you.”

After several moments of silence between them, with only the music playing in the background, she was soon shivering again.

“You’re still chilled. Let’s go inside.” He stood quickly.

“It’s so lovely out here, Mark.I’m fine,” she reassured him, wanting to remain on the lovely terrace, watching the sparkling lights as the city continued to illuminate the enveloping darkness, the slow movement of boats visible as they motored under the Bay Bridge, their path illuminated by running lamps, arcing across the water.

“Then at least let me get you a blanket,” he said, and rose to retrieve one for her, refilling both their wine glasses before he left.

Returning rather quickly, he held a soft, red blanket wide in his hands, stretching it out so he could wrap it about her shoulders, tucking it behind her as he sat close enough to properly ensure she was covered.

He had changed the music to a soft listening station, and she heard Van Morrison singing _Someone Like You_ ; bringing to mind their early days together when she used to sing the lyrics to him while he listened, laughing as she poured her heart out, albeit slightly off-tune, complimenting her effort with kisses, earnestly asking for more.She suddenly felt trapped between the light mist that had appeared, closing down the space around them, making it seem even more private, and Mark sitting very near. 

“If he sang the ingredients off a box of biscuits, it would still be music to my ears,” she said, in an attempt to stop her mind racing to their jointly shared past and his near physical presence.“His voice is extraordinary; one minute it reminds me of hard rain on stone, the next it’s possessed by soulful, gut wrenching beauty.”She felt like she was blathering.Why was he staring at her?She continued, “You know, in 1966, he played at The Whiskey A-Go-Go in Los Angeles, duetting his own song Gloria with the lead singer of the support act, Jim Morrison of the Doors.Imagine Mark, to have been in the audience that night!”

“Have you heard anything from his Duets album?It’s brilliant,” he finally replied after what seemed like minutes to her.“I saw him interviewed when it came out and they asked what he looked for in a duet partner.”He hesitated, until she prompted him.

“And?”

“He said something to the effect of, ‘It’s not just how it fits, it’s how it feels.’”He leaned towards her tentatively, unsure of her response, but knowing he needed to kiss her, that if he didn’t, he’d regret his inaction, even if she wasn’t receptive.When he placed his lips on hers, she didn’t pull back but neither did she respond immediately.Then he felt her hand on his cheek, felt the kiss deepen, inviting him to continue.

“I’m going to stop kissing you now,” he said, pulling back from their passionate embrace, knowing that if it went much further, neither of them would want to stop, or be able to.

She relaxed with her head on his shoulder while she calmed her breathing back to a normal level, his arm still around her, holding her tight.

“Why do you think I stopped?” he asked very softly, taking her chin and tilting her head so their eyes met.

She thought it was because he was recently divorced, and that she had made it clear there wasn’t a future for the two of them, although she’d told him that while he was still married.Her questioning look prompted him to speak again.

“As much as there’s nothing more I want than to continue this, I’d like it if we could begin again, so to speak?”He waited for her to answer, hoping that she too wanted more than just a shag, especially after she’d told him that it was over between them when they’d last been together. 

“I think I’d like that.” _But I still want to shag you right now!_ she thought, knowing he felt the same.Their most recent interaction had been their affair, now months ago and Mark had been married at the time.They had gone from not having seen one another for five years to fast and furious shagging.From zero to sixty in one night and full throttle for the month that followed. 


	12. At Last

Maybe just to be contrary, but definitely owing to the wine and her aroused state, along with her seemingly never failing attraction to him, she turned and started to kiss his neck, her hand migrating to his hair, running her fingers through it slowly. They were now face to face and their eyes met with an intensity that neither could hide. Mark’s mouth moved over hers, slowly kissing, tongue moving expertly in and out, then pulling back to look at her once more. He knew what he wanted more than anything in this world right now, but did she? Her good friend was only steps away in the same house. How would it be in the morning on her last day here, before he took her to the airport? The answers were taken away from him though, when she stood, reached for his hand, gave him a soft smile and said, “Mark, please make love to me.”

There was no way in hell he could deny her, even if he wanted to.She’d always had this effect on him and the only time he had any control over it was when he wasn’t in her presence, hadn’t spent any time with her.It was really quite that simple.He’d always known this in his subconscious and had even been able to bury it for years.But the truth was that he had no choice where she was concerned and never had.Once she’d broken it off with him for good, had chucked him, once he’d come to understand that his career should have always been second to her and their relationship; he’d somehow been able to fool himself that he had his feelings for her under his control, but the night at the christening had proven how mistaken he’d been, how he had deluded himself to preserve his sanity.

He took her proffered hand, stood and led her up the stairs to his room.Barely through the door, he stopped, thinking to ask her if she was sure about this next step between them.He didn’t want her to regret her actions.This could always come at a later date, after they had renewed other aspects of their romance, but this decision too was taken out of his power when she slipped out of her dress and stood before him in her undergarments only.Feeling his breath leave him, as if he had lost the ability to make a conscious decision when she was near, he picked her up, moved over to the bed and set her down on top of the duvet before he shed his own clothes.

She watched him in anticipation, wishing she could preserve in memory how he was looking at her, the emotion on his face clearly showing his adulation.How had she managed the last five years without him?If she were truthful, she hadn’t managed but only managed to survive, making it through each day, month and then year, not fully realizing this until their affair.Until she was presented with the overwhelming feelings and emotions once again, seeing what her life had been without him; first looking for someone else that could fill the void, then burying herself in her work when she couldn’t.

Mark joined her on the bed, his body over hers, feeling as if it belonged there, like it always had.There was a split second before his hand reached out, his touch making every nerve in her body and brain seem electrified, the anticipation of being together in a way that was so much more than words, in a way that felt so completely tangible and real.

His hand gently touched her face, the acceleration of their heart rates having nothing to do with fear and everything to do with what each of their bodies wanted. When Mark looked into her eyes, she tried to look away, almost overcome with emotion, but after all this time he read her like a book, eyes on her chest, her breathing rate duly noted. With a gentle finger he reoriented her face so that he held the gaze she was afraid to give him, seeing the passion in her eyes in a way that only magnified the spark. There was no smile on his lips, only the hot intensity of his stare, each knowing it to be the start of the inferno to come.

Touching him, she felt as if her heart had mended, even though she thought it already had years ago, just now realizing it had only been plastered over.

Both their breaths shaking, his voice was low and husky as he whispered, “I love you, Bridget.”

Before she could respond, he moved away from her face, starting low, kissing from her calves upward, slowly, his hands on her legs, always just a little higher than his mouth. She felt her back arch in anticipation, knowing where his fingers would soon reach. Her head rocked back against the pillow when his hands removed her pants, easing into her, teasing at first, then firmly, the first moan escaping her lips.Every kiss had a raw intensity; their breathing fast, heart rates even faster. Then before she knew how it happened, she was naked, her bra removed, their skin moving softly together.His hand continued its motion, their tongues now entwined in a kiss, and then he was inside her, changing her breathing with every thrust, hearing her moans timed to his body.All at once he stopped, then proceeded to kiss from her breasts to her stomach, his hands light; licking, tasting and using his fingers all at once, watching her reaction, feeling her legs move, watching her body writhe. She wanted to tell him how much she loved him in return, but he was going to have to stop his movements long enough for her brain to start working again first.

The cool room was already beginning to feel warm from their ardor, both of them enjoying with their eyes what they hadn’t seen or touched since London, their bodies as much as their souls mingling in the quiet moment between action and stillness. Mark was finding it exceedingly difficult to hold back, to make the moment between them last, caught between the intoxication of the climax and extending the brief period of time neither wanted to end.A small but teasing smile crept upon her face and goosebumps lined her skin, not the kind that one gets in the cold, but the kind when nothing else matters except right here, right now.

Mark felt himself breathe deep. In. Out. Time forgotten. The side of his thigh pressed against her. _He's sure of himself_ , she thought; in total control. But she can’t read his mind, can’t fathom that he is on the verge of having no control at all, of surrendering completely. They have both wanted this for so long now, craved the other’s touch but denying this truth to everyone, until his tongue tasted her breath once more. They are both caught up in the moment, as if they never separated those many years ago.She arched up again, hips raising to meet him, as he lost the last vestige of control and thrust deeply. They became one, one mind with one goal and purpose, each utterly drunk with love for the other. Bridget screamed out, digging her nails into his back. Not sure how he actually got his body to do his mind’s bidding, he slowed down slightly while kissing her mouth, picking up the pace again once he had control, able to continue until he felt her climax, quickly following her lead, especially after her loud and throaty expressions.Once spent, he thought how precious her words were to him, her laughter these last few days feeling like a remedy, but it was the feel of her body that healed him. Or perhaps it was all of them combined; perhaps all summed, they meant more to him than each individually.

Afterwards, they lay next to each other panting until they caught their breath. His warm hand ran down her body and she shivered, then he pulled her close, kissing her forehead.

—————-

Mark woke on his own very early, even before his alarm went off, anticipating and looking forward to the trip to the airport with Bridget. Glancing over, he saw the soft indentation on the pillow where she’d laid, realizing she had left his room already; he assumed due to being in the same house as their friends and also to get ready for her early morning flight back to Los Angeles.Jumping out of bed, he quickly showered, shaved, dressed and went downstairs, feeling better about his life then he had in as long as he could remember, come to think; looking forward to discussing with Bridget the next steps in their relationship, recalling that Magda had mentioned she’d rather not go the airport, preferring to say her goodbyes at Mark’s, wanting to avoid getting emotional at the airport and in public, knowing how much she was going to miss seeing her friend on a daily basis.

The kitchen was empty when he walked in, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee greeting him even before he was completely clear of the hall.He took down a ceramic cup, pouring it to the top before seeing Magda sitting alone in jeans, T-shirt and a light jacket on the back deck in the pre-dawn light, sun just starting to break through the cloud cover, enjoying her own coffee.

“Good morning,” he smiled in greeting, hoping his good mood wasn’t too obvious to her, even consciously trying to tone down his ebullience.Better to let Bridget decide when and how she’d let her old friend in on their renewed relationship and how it had transpired. 

“Morning,” she replied, a little glumly and he then saw that see she’d been crying, her eyes a bloodshot red, face still splotchy. 

When she blew her nose loudly, he felt horrible for thinking he was glad she wouldn’t be joining them for the ride to the airport, prompting him to ask, “I know you said you’d rather not join us when dropping Bridget this morning, but why don’t you come along?Jeremy can stay in bed and you’ll be back before he wakes.”

She momentarily felt bewildered, giving him a confused look, before saying, “Mark, Bridget asked Jeremy to take her, they’ve only just left.She said she didn’t want to bother you and he was already up with me to say our farewells.I’m sorry.I should have known you’d want to say goodbye also.”

He wasn’t sure what his expression showed, but he felt as if he’d just been kicked; all the air having vacated his lungs.She’d left without telling him... again.He was gutted and angry, not knowing what to think, his mind and thoughts whirling.Had he done something to upset her, did she have a change of heart?Why couldn’t she just talk to him about it?What was it that had caused her to run from him once more?

Reaching over, she placed her hand over his, squeezing lightly.“Mark, Bridget was the other woman, wasn’t she?”

He didn’t answer, not knowing what to say, meeting her gaze but remaining silent.His eyes gave him away though.

By her expression he couldn’t immediately tell her thoughts; if she now put he and Bridget in the same category as the women Jeremy had been unfaithful with.Her next words were a relief to him, not full of condemnation but of understanding, as he felt himself begin to breathe again. 

“I suspected as much.Is that why you left London? To put some distance between you and Camilla?”

He looked at her, slightly puzzled, “No, actually between Bridget and I. She’d made it clear that it was a mistake, that we had to stop seeing one another.Of course I agreed.But I did realize my marriage was over.I couldn’t live with what I’d done and pretend to be happy in the relationship, when it was so obvious my heart lay elsewhere.”

“Then why aren’t you two together? After the last few days, it’s plain to see you’re both still crazy for one another.” 


	13. Communication

Bridget’s mobile rang loudly, startling her.She reached over and picked it up off the counter, quickly looking at the screen, seeing it was Mark.Thinking it best to get this over with quickly, she answered, greeting him with, “Mark, hello.”She tried to sound as nonchalant as she possibly could, even though her heart was pounding in her chest.She had taken the easy way out and she knew it.But if he had been the one to take her to the airport, she wouldn’t have had the resolve to stick to her guns.

“You left your sunglasses here.”His voice gave nothing away as to his feelings.Sometimes she wished she could read him better, but she supposed that’s what made him so good at his profession; his ability to keep his emotions in check.Her mind flashed back to the night prior, when his emotions had been on full display, his love for her never more evident.She had to remain strong, thinking that this was the best route for them both.

“Fu... dge!”She exclaimed.

Smiling inwardly, he replied, “I’ve not heard you ever say quite that word before.”

“Sorry,” he could tell she was walking while she was on the call.“I’ve got a neighbor here, with his little one.Didn’t want to curse in front of him.They’ve just left.”

Mark immediately felt contrite.“I’m the one that should apologize.Evidently I caught you at a bad time.”

“No, no.They were bringing me a package left at their house while I was away for the weekend.”

“I’d like to give you your sunglasses.”

“Could you mail them?I’ll pay the postage of course.”She could hear irritation creeping into his tone and for that she couldn’t blame him.She almost wished he’d yell at her, say something to acknowledge what she had done.

Just then there was a knock at the front door, quickly followed by the bell ringing.“Mark, can you hold one moment?Someone’s at the door.”

Still keeping the mobile to her ear, she yelled out, “One moment,” walking the short distance down the hallway to the front foyer, turning the handle and swinging the door inward.Standing in front of her was Mark, holding her sunglass case out in his hand for her to take, his expression unreadable, before saying, “Thought you might need these this week.”

Looking at him, it took her a moment to register the reality that he was there on her doorstep; still picturing him on his mobile, back in San Francisco.She took in his face, thinking it wasn’t one individual feature that made him handsome, though his eyes came close. She recalled that friends often commented on the colour of them, as if that were important; they were dark brown, yet they would be beautiful in any shade. From them came an intensity, an honesty, a gentleness.His dimples were a subtle indention upon his cheeks, until he smiled, when they would then cause her knees to weaken.To her, he would always embody a gentleman, not one of weakness or ordinary politeness, but one of great spirit and admirable ways. What he was, what made him beautiful, came from deep within; making her want to feel his lips move in a kiss, have his hands follow the curves of her body. She pictured him when they’d first met, noting that as each year passed, the lines increased upon his face, making him more handsome still, as if his self-confidence, his very nature shone through his skin, and even though she hadn’t seen him these last five years until very recently, she thought he looked even better with a touch of gray at his temple, seeming to her like a fine wine that had only gotten better with age.All these thoughts passed through her mind in a matter of seconds, until she noticed his expression change, actually looking downright angry.She’d rarely seen him appear this severe in all their time together.She wasn’t fearful of him, he’d always been nothing but kind towards her.The only time she could remember him becoming this angry was over Daniel’s antics.

He entered without an invitation, walking towards her purposefully.Reaching her, he placed a soft kiss on her mouth, inching her firmly but gently backwards a few feet until she could feel her back against the unyielding wall.She next felt his hot breath moving on her neck, the tender touch of lips, burning as they made contact with her skin. His hand ran through her hair, as the kisses become harder and more urgent. Another hand slid around her waist, pulling her close to his body, his familiar scent like home to her. He dipped his head, lips now moving slowly to her shoulder then into her hair.There was nothing she could do to stop him, because she didn’t want to, feeling powerless against him.

He stopped while standing very close, murmuring low into her ear, “I understand why you left the night of the christening, although you should have at least told me goodbye. But I don’t understand why you left this morning.I won’t come after you again. Either we try once more or we don’t, but you can’t keep doing this to me.”

She started to explain, but it came out as a stammer only, “I... I heard your wife leaving a message on the answer phone this morning, saying she’s coming to San Francisco, staying with you-”

He cut her off, “My _ex_ -wife.And it’s for a business trip.”

“You should try to work things out if she’s willing-”

“You’ve said that several times now.Is that what you want? For me to work it out with her, for she and I to get back together?”

She didn’t answer him, looking down instead, knowing if she looked into his eyes she’d be lost.

“Look at me,” he said, taking her chin in his hand and turning her face up to meet his gaze.“I only want you.Have only ever wanted you.”

Meeting his eyes, she asked,“What if we’d never slept together at the christening?Would you still be married to her; if we hadn’t seen one another again?”She paused, taking a deep breath, eyes downcast in remorse, “If so, then I feel responsible, guilty for my actions.I was the one that asked to go to your room that night.”

“I can’t answer that because I don’t know. But it did happen and we can’t take it back.I didn’t have to accept your invitation, so I too am guilty and have struggled with the consequences of my actions.I think it’s been my mother though, that’s helped me most with that.”She looked up at him again at the mention of his mum.“After speaking with her, I realize we live in a world of complimentary opposites. There are no pluses without minuses, no going up without coming down; you can’t create deep shadows without light.Just as there are benefits and drawbacks to every situation, you need to look at what the benefits were to all parties involved.This goes beyond justification, beyond wanting to be right - this is about being able to see that just as you may have caused pain to those around you, you’ve also caused them pleasure.Ask yourself, what were the benefits of our actions at the christening?”

She was listening to him without speaking, turning his words over in her mind.

“I know the benefit to me was realizing that I still love you, that I always will.When people fall in love from their hearts, and not from practical choices, those loves never go away.You’re that person for me.”He paused, collecting his thoughts, “I know I never want to be without you.If you don’t want the same, then I’ll respect that, because I have to.But I am not getting back with Camilla. I heard her message after you left.I’m not sure what she’s playing at, but I did _not_ ask her to stay with me while she’s in San Francisco.I already have plans to be out of town next weekend.”

What he was telling her was slowly sinking into her brain, into her heart.“I’m sorry I left,” she finally replied.“In my defense... I have none. I’ve always wanted you to be the one for me.”

“Then why do you keep running?Would you rather be on your own?If so, please be honest.Although after last night, I may not believe you,” a smile spread across his face at the memory of their lovemaking, of the passion they had shared only hours before.

“I’m afraid.” 

He pulled her to him once again, while wrapping his arms around her tightly.“So afraid that you’d rather not try again?” he whispered this into her ear, voice quiet, fearful of her answer.“When you left for good, you packed up in five minutes, going without a word or sign.I’m terrified of that.Every time you leave, I relive it once more.”She could hear the pain in voice.

“Mark, I gave so many signs. I gave us a second, third, a hundred chances.”

“Then will you give me, _us_ , one more?I could never read your mind.You told me you were fine, that you understood my work, the demands of my profession... and then you left.Without discussing it.How am I meant to make you happy when you didn’t tell me what was wrong, when you wouldn’t talk to me?”

“I thought you knew, how could you not see it?”

“How could I see what you were trying so hard to hide?”

By this time they were sitting on her sofa, facing one another, talking animatedly. 

“So, you’re saying that I need to be more direct, more forthcoming with my feelings?”

“Yes.You often accuse me of being uptight, of not giving of myself.And I can’t argue that point, but _I_ didn’t go from everything’s fine to leaving.You certainly tell your friends every detail of your life, your problems, but you didn’t share the same with me.When I asked, you assured me that you were okay, that our relationship was strong.”

“You were always so busy, gone so often.I didn’t want to add to your stress by burdening you with my feelings.Your integrity makes me feel small, even your job is honourable,” she said this with respect, feeling that she wasn’t enough for him, that she could never bring him contentment, peace.“You paint masterpieces while I work at a bloody news programme and talk shit with my friends.”She felt a tear run down her cheek.“Did I take that... take your integrity from you the night we slept together at the christening and our meetings afterwards?I’m so sorry.”

“I seem to recall that I kissed you first.”

“But I asked to go to your room.You would never have done that with someone else.You would have remained true to your marriage.”

He felt like they were getting nowhere but finally getting somewhere, at long last discussing the issues that had plagued their time together and their recent liaison.

“Isn’t that rather the point, that I would only do this for you?” he replied solemnly.

She slid across the sofa towards him.“I love you.”Their kiss started slow, tentative, before she stood, reached down and put her hand out to him.“Can I make love to you?And I would like nothing more than to try again.”The smile that spread across his face caused the indentations in his face to deepen, before he took her hand and followed her into the bedroom. 

Their lovemaking had a different feel than previous times, seeming to both as if they’d come to an agreement and were finally on the same page after so many years of trying, of being close but not quite there. Quickly shedding their clothes, she felt her body melt into his form as they kissed before falling onto the bed together.She could feel his firm torso and heart beating from within.Her body started to shake with tears as she thought of the time they could never get back, but more importantly what their future would hold, crying to release the tension she’d held inside since their affair and for her, if she were truthful, since their long ago break-up.He pulled back a little at her obvious emotion, wiping the tears away with a finger, bringing her more relief than her heart could hold. She took him in fully with her eyes, running her hand through his hair, as if she couldn’t believe he was there and not part of a broken dream.She kissed him and it was sweet, gentle and tasted of her tears.She tried to speak, only it came out more of a whisper, “I promise to never leave again.After so many years, we now have the chance to make new memories.”

His response was only to nod and smile, his eyes crinkling with laugh lines, before he returned her kiss, his mouth becoming more insistent, as if wasting time wasn’t on their agenda.In the kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment.She thought, not for the first time, if the beauty of his lips was more their softness or their association with the words he spoke.His eloquence often mesmerized her, his voice at once soothing yet capable of bringing her to the brink of desire with only a slight change in tone.She moved to kiss his neck, feeling a shudder of pleasure run through his body, hearing his breath hitch in anticipation.He leaned into her, pulling her tight, feeling her warmth, unable to stop himself, until she pulled back, making him wait until he could hardly bear it.He wanted her lips now, back on his, until she finally leaned back in, giving him what he needed, craved so badly.They were both ravenous now, all thoughts of foreplay gone in their need to connect to one another, to be as close as they could be, as fast as possible; there was no focus, only desire, until they made the connection, their bodies becoming one, she on top, controlling the tempo for as long as she could, before his body took over, engulfing her senses, stealing away her worries once and for all.In that moment, they were both alive only in the present, all thoughts of past and future melting away.

Much later, she lay with her head on his chest, sighing contentedly.“Mark, how long can you stay?”

“I have tomorrow off.I hope to stay the night here?”He asked her instead of stating it as fact, always a gentleman, never one to assume or take for granted her plans when intimacy was involved.

“I’d like that.I don’t have to be to the studio until noon.We can spend the morning together before you leave.”She hesitated, not wanting to break their contentment, but already wanting to know when she would see him, spend time together again.“I wish I could see you next weekend.”

“You can,” he stated, rather matter of factly.

She leaned back so she could see his face, “I thought you said you’d be out of town next weekend?”

“I will.What time would you like me here Friday evening?”

_The End._

**Author's Note:**

> Listening to a song titled “Illicit Affairs” started me thinking about what might have happened if Mark wasn’t separated from Camilla when he and Bridget ran into each other at the Christening. The first chapter is taken from the movie and uses a deleted scene. I don’t know if the characters would actually embark on an affair since they both seem to have high morals and want to try to do the right thing, but with their shared past... who knows?


End file.
